The Silent Wolf
by KingsNeverDie100
Summary: The bastard daughter of Eddard Stark lives in forest with her clan of wildlings. When she is asked to escort the King and his family to Winterfell, she meets a man who will rock her foundations. Follow the story of the Silent Wolf as she tries to find her place in the world along with her siblings and her beloved Hound.
1. Chapter 1

The forest was quiet. There were no sounds besides the wind blowing through the leaves in the trees above. Even though winter was fast approaching, they were still green with only a hint of gold. They rustled back and forth like they were whispering a message to each other that only they could decipher.

She stood completely still, barely breathing. She had done this so many times that her body had learned to relax in this straining position. The branch she was perched on was thick and sturdy, so as long she didn't fall, she was safe. She was sitting high above ground, hidden behind the leaves. Her legs were bent so she was squatting down, making herself as small as possible, while pressing up against the tree trunk. Her arms were tense from holding the bow, which was in position to fire the arrow, and had been that way since she first got up there.

She had sat like this many times before, and thanks to that both her arms and legs had become very strong. From this she had also learned patience, and her eyesight and hearing had improved immensely. At times her hunting abilities would be compared to that of a hawk, and she definitely agreed- that was one of her inspirations when she started doing it this way.

Because her bow was always ready she wouldn't have to make as much noise later, rather than if it wasn't. She would simply have to adjust her aim and let it go.

She didn't have to wait for long. Soon a doe walked in to the glade that she had under her eye. She let it wander around for a while, making it feel safe. It was looking for food, which was ironic because soon it would become food itself.

She quietly took her aim. Before the doe could even register her presence, there was an arrow lodged in its neck.

She smiled. Another successful hunt without any difficulties.

She put her bow around her back and jumped down from the tree. She landed gracefully on the ground below and walked up to her prey. The doe was a beautiful creature, but that did not help save its life. Every living thing had to eat, some were predators and some were prey. She made sure to always remain a predator, because she would be damned before she became anybody's prey.

She pulled the arrow from its neck. It was still whole and could be used again if cleaned. When you had limited resources you had to make sure not to waist anything, especially not something as valuable as ammunition.

With little difficulty she hoisted the carcass over her shoulder and began her march back to camp.

Even with her heavy boots and the extra weight from the doe, she still somehow managed to walk silently on the leaf covered ground. She had learned how to be quiet, less she wanted someone unwelcome to see her.

She soon reached the camp. Long before she did she could hear the sounds of it.

She could hear the voices of her people carried in the wind. Children were laughing and screaming of joy while their parents were calling for them. Wood was being chopped, food cooked over a burning fire and horses were neighing.

The camp was located in a glade which had been expanded in time as more and more people joined them. Now they were close to six hundred in one camp. There were other settlements around the north, from old fortresses on the Wall to the edges of the Eastern Sea to the Neck, and most of them answered to her.

People did not start to notice her until she was already among them.

"Leyla is back!" she heard someone shout. People looked her way and waved to her as she passed by or nodded respectfully.

Several children came running towards her, shouting and laughing. Most of them were barefoot and dirty, but happy none the less. They were jumping around her, asking about the hunt and if anything interesting had happened. Had she seen anyone else? Had she run in to any dangerous animals? Could they touch the doe?

"Touch all you want," she told the little boy, "But do it now before it's been cooked. You know you're not allowed to play with your food."

The boy squealed in delight and ran his hand through the hide, but withdrew it when he discovered that it was covered in blood.

"Go wash your hand before your mother sees it and blames me for getting you filthier than you already are," she chuckled and ruffled his hair with her free hand. The boy ran off and took the other children with him. She was now able to move through camp more quickly, when she didn't have a herd of little ones around her legs.

She reached one of the cooking tents and put the carcass down on an empty table. She took off her outer layers and rolled up her sleeves before taking out a sharp knife from the strap on her leg and started to remove the skin and the insides, as she had many times before.

Before long her work was done and someone came along to take care of the result. The meat was about to be cooked, the skin to make clothes and the entrails would feed the dogs. Nothing went to waste. She could have had someone else do the skinning and cutting up of her game, but she preferred to do it herself. She did not mind getting her hands dirty (or bloody).

When she was washing her hands she felt someone tap her shoulder. She turned around to see Marcus, a man in his fifties with greying hair and a kind smile on his face. He had been a good friend to her for many years and she counted him as one of her officers, though they had no official titles, only a handful of people who spoke for the rest.

"Another fruitful hunt I see," he stated. "Though a bit much deer lately, if you ask me."

"Good thing no one asked you then, Marcus," she teased. "If you are not satisfied with what I have to offer, you can move to another camp. Perhaps to one by the East Sea and eat yourself fat on fish instead of meat." Everyone in Leyla's camp were free to come and go as they pleased and she did not meddle in their reasons why.

"I wouldn't do that, Leyla. You know that my loyalties lie with my queen, and I won't leave until you send me away. I'll just get fat on whatever food you offer, and I will do it without complaining"

"It is good that you recognize authority, and I appreciate your loyalty," she told him with honesty.

For years now Leyla had been known as the Queen of the Southern Wildlings or Queen of the Savages. Her grandparents had come with their entire clan from beyond the Wall and settled in the north. The clan had expanded with people from both sides of the Wall and some had moved to make their own settlements further away. However, they always remained loyal to their leaders: Leyla's grandparents. Her mother, Tasha, had only lived her first five years beyond the Wall. As she grew up she explored the new world and gained a lot of knowledge, which she then shared with her people.

On one of her travels she met the man who would become Leyla's father. They were both teenagers and shared only a few nights together, but it was enough to result in her.

"A raven came while you were away, from your father in Winterfell." He handed her a small scroll.

She took it without any real interest. It was most likely a plea for her to come on her annual visit. It had been a while since the last one, but she hadn't thought much of it.

Her father was Eddard Stark, Lord of Winterfell and Warden of the North. He and Tasha had met before he was married to Catelyn Tully.

All her life her father had insisted that she gave up her place in the wild to live in Winterfell and she had always turned him down. She still made sure to visit as often as she could. Those times grew fewer when her mother died and she had to take her place as the leader of her clan.

But she was conflicted. Though she loved her life in the forest, she would not grieve for long if she had to give it up. What she would grieve was her freedom. The people called her a queen, but they didn't really need her. She was more like a symbol: not entirely necessary and easy to replace, but it gave them something to look up to and- if the time ever came- something to fight for.

Despite this she would not take up a place in Winterfell and become a true Stark, no matter how much her father insisted. She liked it there and she liked her half-brothers and sisters, but they had a stronger bond to each other than they did to her.

Beyond the Wall there were no such thing as Houses and only the bigger families with great achievements in their history had famous surnames. Most of the time her people were simply referred to as southern wildlings or savages and people would know who they were talking about.

Despite this she had a great yearning to have a house to belong to. She wanted to be a Stark, but the fact that she was a bastard meant she would never be accepted in the way the full-blooded Stark children were. For now she was just Leyla Snow.

All the children loved her and even Lady Catelyn accepted her. Perhaps that was because she was a product of something her husband had done before they had even met, unlike her feelings towards Ned's other bastard, Jon Snow.

She unrolled the scroll to reveal its content.

_Robert Baratheon and company are coming to Winterfell. Please act as their escort on the Kingsroad until they arrive. Would be most pleased if you stayed with us while they are here._

_Lord Eddard Stark of Winterfell._

The message was short and to the point. Leyla remembered her father's friend Robert very well. He had always been kind to her whenever they met and she liked him.

Leyla had been a wild child and while Ned tried to calm her down and make her a proper lady, Robert laughed at her antics and encouraged her to continue as before. She loved her father dearly, but he needed to understand that life as a lady did not suit her.

Marcus still stood by her side, awaiting orders or news. She told him what the scroll said.

"We will ride out to meet them tomorrow at first light. I will bring fifty men, and if there is need of a leader while I am gone, that will be you. I expect to be away for a few weeks at least."

Except for Leyla, they did not have a true leader. When she went away she would appoint whoever of her officers she thought would fit the part. Most people in the camp could take care of themselves anyway.

The southern wildlings got by by hunting. They fed on the animals of the forest and sold the hides if they needed to. They were also excellent craftsmen and soldiers. The life in the forest had made them all big and strong, and it was very rare to see a weak southern wildling. They knew how to endure and they would no doubt survive the coming winter, unlike many others who lived under better conditions than them, but were less knowledgeable on how to stay alive.

But what they were most famous for was thieving. Anyone who travelled by the bigger roads had better keep their eyes open and their horses ready to run. Leyla's clan were robbers and they stole whatever they needed from whoever had it. They did not concern themselves with who they upset, nor did human lives have a great value to them. The only thing that was not allowed and was punishable by death was rape.

That's why she was so surprised that Eddard had asked her to escort the king. Lord Stark strongly disapproved of her way of living, but stayed silent about it most of the time. One could wonder why he asked a thief to lead the king to a place he knew how to find himself.

This was probably one of her father's many attempts to get her to redeem herself. He thought that if she could spend some time by the side of an old friend and have a royal tell her how wrong she was, then she would surely see the error of her ways.

Unfortunately for Ned, Robert would not see it that way. In fact, he would probably forbid the arrest of thieves on the Kingsroad so that she would not lose any of her men. She smiled at the thought of the man she saw as an uncle. Something that did not make her smile was the thought of his wife and her family. In her eyes, the Lannisters were just as bad, if not worse than her own people. No, they were much worse, and Leyla's people consisted of robbers and killers!

No matter… She would do as her father told her, but until morning light she would not think about it, else she'd get too mad at those wretched lions to do anything at all.

After eating the dinner that she had caught herself, she bid her company a good night and started moving towards her resting place. It was a short walk to from the main camp to her own private glade. It was much smaller, and the only thing she had that came close to a tent was a few large pieces of cloth, one provided as a roof and two others as walls for some privacy. The "tent" was open on the short sides, but she did not worry about unwanted visitors. Her people respected her too much to intrude on her, and she had protections in form of both weapons and guards. Though they were not human guards.

Since she had to get up early next morning she had decided against inviting someone into her bed. Man or woman didn't matter much, a person is a person and you can get your pleasure from either one of them. As much as she enjoyed a sturdy man by her side she also enjoyed the softness that a woman provided. Though to get a soft woman in a place like this was unlikely…

But her camping place was a bit still and quieter than usual.

She put two fingers to her lips and gave a shrill whistle. From every direction around her noise began to be heard. There were feet moving quickly on the ground and a few loud barks could be heard as well.

Four big dog came rushing towards her and before Leyla could react they had her pinned to the ground. They were all over her, sniffing and barking and licking her face and searching her hands and pockets for treats.

She laughed and sat up. "Oh, my sweetlings, you missed me today, didn't you?" They all waved their tales as if to say yes.

"I can't give you any treats though, lest you want to get fat."

They were very clever animals, and when she said this they backed off and gave her some room to breathe.

"But I am going to give you something else though. Tomorrow you are coming with me to Winterfell. You always like it there, don't you?" She had to take her dogs with her when she travelled. They were her friends and, ridiculously, they were the only once she thought of as her true family. She felt a deep connection with them and, in a way, even thought of them as her children. She was unlikely to ever find a man she liked enough to settle down with and she always made sure to eat a special plant to prevent an unwanted pregnancy after being with a man.

Her connection with the dogs might have to do with her condition, which only a few people knew about. Her father knew and so did Jon Snow, who she had told in good faith. If it was up to her no one would know, not even her own father. It would be better that way.

Clearing her head, she played with her blood hounds for a short while before retiring. She went in to her poor excuse for a tent and lied down on the bedroll. She had taken off her outer clothes, but did not lay down under the thick furs despite the cold night air.

Without her saying the canines came in as well and lied down around and on top of her. They did this most nights and the furs were only there for the rare nights that they were someplace else.

With her faithful pets surrounding her Leyla went to sleep, dreaming and dreading what the next day would bring.


	2. Chapter 2

The ride to the meeting point was swift for the wildlings, for they had raised their horses to aspire speed instead of strength. Leyla had picked fifty of her best men to join her on this adventure.

She said men, but the fact is that about half of the group consisted of women. Among the wildlings, above or below the Wall, it did not matter a great deal whether you were a man or woman. Everyone had the same rights. This gave women the opportunity to become warriors like the men, and many took it. Leyla had been one of them.

She had been trained since she was old enough to say that she wanted to. No one had ever held her back or told her that she couldn't do it. Of course it had not always been a smooth ride. Since men are naturally stronger she had to work twice as hard to be equal to them on the battlefield, but she had gladly done it.

As the years passed on by she developed muscles you would expect to find on a trained soldier. What added to her impressive physique was the fact that she stood at the remarkable height of 6'4. She had giant's blood in her veins from her mother's side. Many were intimidated by her height alone. Often was she called names by outsiders behind her back or to her face, but she took it with a smile. "Beast" or "Animal" were names she saw as compliments. As for the other names, well, they helped build up her fury for when she knocked them to the ground with her bare hands.

The women in her army did not mind being acknowledged as men in contexts such as: "Ready the men" or "Men, saddle up". It was easier and quicker than saying "Men and women". The women were brutes as much as the men were, but she made sure that the men in her army always respected them. If a woman had a reason to mistrust you, you would get questioned and most likely ill-treated by the entire clan.

By the time they arrived at the place they were supposed to meet at the sun was already high in the sky. There was no sign of the royal party, so Leyla send up lookouts into the trees, while the rest made themselves comfortable.

They placed themselves behind the bushes by the side of the road. Usually they would have gotten a fire going and tuned into song, but for now they wanted to remain hidden from sight. They had even left the horses a mile away as to lower the risk of making noises, and her beloved dogs were with them.

They were still in the forest and had come to a place where the road was surrounded by a thicket of trees with long branches, some which went over the road. The leaves from those branches had fallen off and created a soft red and golden carpet on the forest floor.

It was a few hours later when one of the lookouts finally came down from his tree to report spotting the royal company.

Leyla smiled mischievously- this was going to be fun.

"Take fifteen men with you when you go back up that tree. I assume you know what to do with them?" she asked the man, Russell.

He nodded. "Yes m'lady." He knew exactly what to do. They had done it many times before, while robbing convoys in places similar to this. Russell always led the same men up the trees. Those men had been trained just for this: to be able to attack from the air.

Russell was the man who spoke for her group when they had to hide the fact that they were led by a woman. Sometimes Leyla enjoyed standing in the background and supervise their work instead of being in the midst of it.

As the caravan drew closer she and her men hid in the trees and bushes.

At the head of the crowd rode the king himself. No doubt he wanted to show off his power. A proud ruler leads his people. Only a coward would stand behind a wall of guards, instead of standing ahead of them with a sword in hand.

Robert Baratheon had grown even fatter than the last time she'd seen him. Most likely from the limitless food and drink that was at his disposal in King's Landing. It wasn't a wise decision of him to spend his days feasting instead of ruling, but he had never wanted the throne. At least, not after he'd been crowned and realized what hard work it was.

Closest to him were about ten armoured soldiers, then came a huge carriage which looked more like a cage. _A cage for the lions_, she snickered in her head. This was the carriage for the queen, her children and her handmaidens. It looked like it was made of oak and impossible to break in to, but that didn't mean they couldn't give the Lannister lioness bit of a scare.

Following them came more soldiers, and sellswords, freeriders, farmers bringing livestock to butcher on the way and all their families. It looked to be about three hundred in total. She shouldn't have expected anything less.

It was most likely the queen who brought all the extra swords. The king would have been satisfied if he would have gone by himself.

When they were close enough she put her hands to her mouth and made the sound of a bird. All her men knew that signal. It meant that it was time to attack.

Thanks to the slow pace of the royal party the sun was about to set. The sky had become red and thanks to the shade provided by the trees, it was easy to hide one's face if you put your hood up, which is what they all did.

Once she'd given the signal all the wildlings jumped out from their hiding places.

The ones still on the ground emerged from the bushes from both sides of the road, howling and shouting war cries, aiming both swords and arrows at them.

The ones in the trees roped themselves down and landed in top of the horses, facing the men already on them. Before they had a chance to be surprised they were given a punch in the face, hard enough to push them backwards off the horse.

The startled voices from the victims of the attack were silenced by the loud singing that the men started. They all sang the melody at the top of their lungs, just as a way to humiliate them even more.

Russell and three other men were sat on top of the huge carriage, howling and jumping on it, and you could faintly hear terrified screams from inside it.

All her people were making some kind of noise, all but her. That is why she was called the Silent Wolf. She hardly ever made a sound. Of course she could get very loud when sharing a laugh with her companions, but she never uttered a war cry in battle and she was even quiet in the sack. She knew how to move without making a sound. Life as a hunter had taught her that.

It happened so fast that by the time Robert had turned around all was already chaos.

"What in the name of the Seven is the meaning of this?!" he shouted. He could still be heard over the ruckus.

While his back was turned Leyla had gone to stand in front of him at the top of the crowd.

"We are the men of the forest, Your Grace. We have come to welcome you in to our land and to relieve you of the weight of your purses."

"Your land?" he huffed angrily, whirling his horse around to face her. "All the land in Westeros belongs to the king, and I will be damned if I allow some thieving scoundrels take both my land and my gold!" he roared.

She chuckled when he pulled his sword and pointed it at her. "Oh, calm down, will you, Robert? We were just playing a jest. We'd never hurt the greatest king who ever walked this earth on his fat legs," she mocked in a friendly way.

It wasn't until now, when she removed her hood that the king recognized her face.

In a second his expression went from angry to amused. He started laughing wholeheartedly.

"Well, if it isn't little Leyla Snow. I would hardly recognize you if you didn't look so much like your father."

It was true. She did look like him. She had his eyes, his dark blonde hair and his strong jawline and brow. In fact, if it wasn't for her elbow long, messy hair and the soft brown eyes she'd inherited from her mother, it would have been easy to confuse her for a man. For course, what lay hidden beneath the layers of shapeless armour was all woman.

She gave the signal for her men to stop what they were doing. The singing immediately stopped. The ones on the horses jumped down and returned them to their owners, who all sported bloody noses, and the ones on the carriage came down as well. For cautious reasons they still kept their weapons out and at the ready.

"What are you doing here? Hoping to be the first person to rob the king of Westeros, were you?" He actually sounded proud, strangely enough.

"No, my father sent me to keep you company the rest of the way. For what reason I do not know, but I don't question him."

"Very well," he accepted. "Lead us on then."

"Your Grace, in all this excitement I fear you have failed to notice that the sun has already began to set," she stated.

The flaming orb had changed colour from eye hurting yellow to a more mellow shade of red. Every minute it came closer and closer to the horizon that lay hidden behind the treeline. The air was slowly getting chillier and the sound of day animals were fading away and became replaced by that of the nocturnal.

Robert huffed. "It's that damn carriage," he reluctantly admitted. "If my wife hadn't insisted of taking it, we would be at our destination by now."

The wooden wheelhouse was slowing them down. A fast ride from here to Winterfell would have taken three days, but because they had to drag that thing and all the extra people it would take them a week to get there.

"Don't be so sullen, Your Grace. A king should always be allowed to take his time." The voice came from a knight who stood right behind Robert. He was wearing a golden armour and a helmet shaped like a lion's head. It was not hard to figure out that this was the queen's brother, Jaime Lannister, the Kingslayer. You could not see much of his face through the visitor of his helm, but it was obviously him. Not only could you tell from the helm and armour, but also from the arrogant confidence in his voice and the way he held himself.

Robert turned his head to face him so quickly Leyla thought he would break his own neck. "Don't try to protect your spoiled sister by buttering up to me, Kingslayer!" he snapped.

Leyla felt the need to intervene before the king lost his temper completely.

"I suggest that we set up camp here for the night. It's as good a place as any, and we won't get there any faster if we have to travel with that thing and all these people in dark," she said to bring his attention back to her.

Robert would have no doubt wished to continue the travel if she didn't stop him. It was dangerous out in the wild after dark, and her people were not ready to sacrifice themselves for some southerners they did not know, if it came down to it. Also, the carriage would cause a problem. It already attracted enough attention as it was, but at night, in the silence, you could probably have heard it from miles away and the chances of it getting stuck or breaking down were much higher.

Not every creature in the forest answered to Leyla, and right now, with so many important people, she did not wish to face that which she didn't have control over.

Robert nodded reluctantly, seeing the wisdom of her suggestion.

"Alright, get everyone to settle down. Tell them we're stopping here for the night," he gruffly ordered Ser Jaime, who simply nodded and turned his horse towards the people behind them.

She gave him a small bow with her head to dismiss herself. She had to go speak to Russell about leading the others away to where they had left the horses and set up camp there. The wildling were more comfortable when they were hidden by the forest, instead of being so close to the road.

When she was halfway there she walked by the carriage. She stopped for a moment to look at it. It was truly hideous. Perhaps it was considered fashionable in King's Landing, but here it was just clumsy and impractical. Wildlings liked to move with speed and in silence and this thing provided neither of them.

There were a few arrows stuck in it and marks from when the men had climbed down on the sides. She chuckled. It's not as if that would make it less ugly than it already was.

Before she could take another step a man rounded the corner of the side furthest away from her. The first thing she noticed about him was his size. He stood close to seven feet tall and had broad shoulders and a powerful looking torso that made him look even bigger. On top of that he was wearing armour. He was without a doubt the biggest man she'd ever seen.

His face was-to put it kindly-unique. The right side was burned and rough and the scarring looked a bit like crumpled paper. He had long dark hair, some which was used to cover up his burned scalp. The look he gave her was fierce, like she had done something to greatly offend him, but her smile had never left her face.

"You're a big one," she said, smirking. "I've always liked the big ones." She couldn't keep her eyes from wondering across his body while biting her lip.

He seemed surprised at her statement and was about to respond when the door in front of her flew up and nearly smacked her right in the head.

Out stamped a boy who looked about thirteen with golden hair and an angry scowl on his face. Like his uncle, the prince wasn't hard to recognize. He looked too much like a Lannister for anyone to doubt who he was.

"What's happening?" he shouted. He turned to the man Leyla had spoken to. "Clegane, what was all that ruckus?"

Clegane. So this was the famous Hound. Bodyguard and loyal dog to the king and the Lannisters. His reputation had reached even Leyla's ears and she had always been impressed by what she heard. Now that she saw him in person, she understood why people feared him.

"I believe that was our escort making an entrance," he nodded towards her. The deep, hoarse sound of his voice made the good kind of shiver creep up her spine.

Joffrey hadn't noticed her until now, and for a moment his eyes wandered over her.

"Our escort? What are you, some sort of wildling?" he said with a snarl. He seemed incapable of speaking in any other way.

"That's exactly what I am, my prince. I'm Leyla Snow, daughter of Lord Eddard Stark. He sent me to see that your passage to his home would be safe."

"Ah, yes, his other bastard," he snickered. "It seems that man is unable to control his urges. Though I've heard his other daughters are quite pleasing for the eye. Your mother must have been very ugly for you to turn out the way you did."

If there weren't so many guard around she would have punched him. Though she acted like she didn't care if she was called ugly, she would not have anyone insult her parents the way this insolent boy just did.

Before she could say anything Robert shouted his son's name for the front of convoy. He left Leyla standing there with a sickening smile on his face. That boy needed a good spanking and a lesson in how to behave. She would gladly volunteer for both.

She had expected Clegane to go with him, but he remained where he was, watching her.

Her brief encounter with the prince had put her in a foul mood, and she felt like she'd rather find something or someone to take out her angry at than being ogled at.

"Don't you have someplace to be, or someone to guard?" she snapped.

"Don't take it personally," he rasped. "He's like that to everyone." It almost sounded like he cared she was upset, but he had no reason to do so.

"That doesn't mean I wasn't offended."

"No, it doesn't," he admitted. He came towards her and stopped when he was beside her. This close to him she noticed that he had very nice eyes of a dark brown colour. "But you're not ugly." Before she could respond he kept walking. She was stunned by his words.

She was ugly, it was plain for everyone to see, but he, with his ruined face, was even worse in the eyes of the public. No doubt he had to take a lot of harsh words for strangers behind his back, and from the evil little prince straight to his face.

Perhaps he wanted to assure her that things could be worse? She shook her head. That was ridiculous. This was the first time they'd met and it hadn't lasted for more than five minutes at the most. He was a brute, not so different from a wildling actually. Why would someone like him care about if someone like her got her feelings hurt?

Besides, it wasn't that he had insulted her that was hurtful, but she hated it when people spoke ill of her parents. Her mother had been a beautiful, strong woman and her father was a great man. They both had her uttermost respect.

To say something like that about Ned Stark was laughable. Leyla had been conceived before his marriage and Jon… well, he was different matter entirely. When he was born Leyla was old enough to understand what went on between a man and a woman behind closed door. She had guessed the truth about her brother long ago, and when she had confronted her father about it he had not denied it.

Leyla shrugged to get rid of some of her anger. She figured she could drink it away later.

She gathered up her remaining men and headed for their own camp.

Before she had left the royal company the king had called out for her. He'd asked for her permission to join her people for the night, for the purpose of experiencing the wildling life, if only for one night. She nearly laughed at him, for the king asking for permission was indeed laughable, especially a king like Robert Baratheon. She didn't say this though. She simply told him that they would be honoured to have him.

To his annoyance, a few guards followed him around, at the queen's order. She actually seemed to be more sensible than him, but that did not make her likable.

Sandor Clegane was amongst those guards.

_Interesting_, she thought. She'd had time to calm down and once again she admired his physique. _Perhaps there's a better way to take out my frustrations tonight than to drink._

She didn't know yet if she meant to fight him-which would be entertaining for everyone around- or to invite him to her bed. At this point she didn't really care which one it would be, but she knew that either way she would make sure to enjoy it greatly. This would be a night to remember.


	3. Chapter 3

Sandor was not happy. For three weeks now had they travelled on the Kingsroad towards Winterfell, and it didn't feel like they were getting any closer.

During this whole time, the queen and her eldest son had not stopped complaining. About the weather, the smell, the bumpy road, the noise and the company. It seemed they were never satisfied (though that was a known trait among Lannisters) and they never shut up when you wanted them to.

He had been close to jumping of his horse, marching in to that carriage and strangling every single one of them. He probably would have done it too, if they hadn't been stopped by those highway robbers who, apparently, were their escort. He was actually grateful to them, stopping him from doing something he might have regretted later, when the executioner held a sword to his neck.

Something that upset him furthermore was seeing the brat prince make fun of that half Stark half wildling girl. Reassuring girls that they weren't ugly wasn't something he did on a regular basis, but he didn't like the way Joffrey spoke to her. It was disrespectful, although he probably wasn't the best person to argue about respect.

All his life he'd been bullied by people like Joff, and to see it happen to someone who didn't deserve it, who'd done nothing wrong but have an appearance that didn't fit the norm, it made him grind his teeth.

Usually Sandor didn't care when injustice was done- he had learned not to care- so he was surprised that he even gave this a second thought.

What surprised him even more was that the wildling girl had appeared to flirting with him before they were interrupted. No woman ever did that. Even the whores he paid had a hard time looking at him. They did their jobs quickly and left without a word, and that suited him fine. But this girl seemed to have no problem looking at his face. She even smiled at him, sincerely. He had certainly not been expecting that.

When the king had announced that he wanted to spend the night in the wildling camp Sandor had joined the guard that were accompanying him without being told to. He might have been a sworn shield to the king's son, but he figured that being away from him for one night wouldn't do any harm. If he was really lucky, the prince might actually be dead when he returned in the morning.

But he hadn't followed the king to provide protection. For some reason he was curious about the girl. She had both men and women in her company and they all seemed to have a tremendous amount of respect for her. That couldn't be just because she was half Stark. What made this girl so special? That's what he wanted to find out.

Despite being fat and closer to the grave than the cradle, King Robert moved surprisingly fast through the forest, almost keeping up with the Stark bastard's long strides. Say what you will about Robert Baratheon, but he was not a man who gave up easily. When they'd arrived at their destination the older man was out of breath and red like the setting sun in the face.

Their primitive tents were already up and ready for the night and food was cooking over several fires.

The king has sat down near one of them, trying to catch his breath and waving off his men who began to wander off on their own or in groups, but Sandor stayed close to Robert.

The girl had disappeared for a short while, but returned now with a wineskin in each hand. She handed one to the king.

"Drink, Robert. It wouldn't make my father look good if his daughter killed the king a week before reaching Winterfell," she laughed.

"You're not getting rid of me that easily," he said once he'd drunk half the wineskin in one go. "Now, tell me about your life in the woods, and about Winterfell. It's been too long since I've seen you, little girl, or even since I've been up north."

"It's been a long time since I was a little girl, but I will gladly tell you."

As another surprise, she sat down next to Sandor, who sat opposite to the king with the fire between them. Neither of them seemed to think twice about this but for some reason it made him uncomfortable to be so close to her.

She proceeded to tell Robert everything that he'd missed in the last few years. More people joined around the fire to listen to her stories. Soon the food was served and the men and women were roaring with laughter, not only at her stories, but at other's as well. It was obvious she and her people were close to each other. Eventually, one after one the others left, until they were the only ones who remained. More wood had been added to the fire and it was as bright as it had been when he first sat down. The girl had scooted closer to him earlier to make room for her friends, but she hadn't moved away when they left. Now their elbows were touching but she didn't seem to mind.

She nudged him a little bit to get his attention. When he looked over she was offering him a drink from her wineskin. She was smiling at him. Not like a little girl offering a treat, nor like a whore trying to seduce him to get to his money, but like a comrade offering to share drinks in a friendly gesture. It wasn't often he saw that kind of smile. Never one to say no to wine he took the skin from her hand. She didn't seem to be offended when he didn't thank her.

Sandor had been quiet all evening, but being a little braver from the wine he asked, "Why do have so many fires lit? Most people have gone to sleep, why still keep them so big?" His gruff voice made it sound like he was accusing her of something, but she didn't flinch.

"So your Hound does know how to talk," she said amusingly to Robert, who was too drunk to answer. These were the first words he'd spoken since they'd left the royal company behind. She became serious again. "There's a lot of bear in this part of the forest. It is said a particular one has acquired a taste for human flesh, so we need the fire to keep the fucker away. There's guards in the trees to warn us if something happens and no one is allowed to wander off too far from camp," she explained.

He didn't like fire at all, but he supposed that in cases like these it was a necessity. But that didn't make him like it more.

He thought for a while before saying, "If it's human flesh it's after, I suppose you and I are safe then." He was hinting at the fact that they were more known as a Hound and a Wolf. She must have understood his meaning, because she started to laugh wholeheartedly. She had a nice laugh, he decided. Instead of holding back, like some women did when they tried to silence themselves by putting their hand over their mouth, she didn't hold back at all. It sounded like the laugh you'd hear from a man in a tavern after being told a particularly dirty joke, only slightly more high-pitched.

"Yes, I suppose we are," she agreed once she's caught her breath.

Sandor was amazed. He'd never made a girl laugh before. He'd never tried. The joke wasn't even that funny, but he let the thought go. He just focused on her laugh, which he decided that he liked. He hoped that she would do it again soon.

She looked across the fire at the drunken king.

"You should go to sleep, Robert. We have a long few days ahead of us and we have to get going as soon as the sun is up," she told him. She pointed to a place further down the camp. "There's a bedroll for you over there. It's not your big, soft bed in King's Landing, but it will have to do. If you want to share it with someone, I suggest you ask for Marla. She likes men with a bit of roundness to them." The king wasn't able to detect the insult, but simply nodded and began to stagger off in the direction she'd pointed.

"Make sure you get her permission first," she said to his retreating back. "Any man who tries to fuck a wildling woman by force will be choking on his own balls before he can beg for mercy!"

That she had no problem with the king being unfaithful to the queen came as no surprise. It was known that the Lannisters often sent out soldiers to capture and kill clans of wildlings beneath the Wall. No doubt had she lost some of her own men that way. Cersei might have had nothing to do with those captures- it was mostly down to Lord Tywin- but the general opinion was that to punish one Lannister was to punish them all.

"There goes the king we all bow down to; fat and drunk and getting older by the day," she mumbled mostly to herself. "And there's not much hope for his little shit of a son either." She sighted. "The world of politics is a scary one. That's why my people and I stay in the wild." He was about to ask what she meant, but she answered even before he had a chance to. "Here there are no masters and no backstabbing. Just simple honesty and companionship. If we want to survive, we have to work together. Here, there is no one we have to bow down to."

"I thought you were a queen? Don't your people have to bend a knee for you?" he asked sceptically.

"Queen is just a title I was given. I don't protest because that's what they insist on calling me, but they'd do just as well without me." That seemed to mark the end of the conversation.

They sat for a while in comfortable silence, before Sandor stood up and headed for the forest to take a piss.

"Don't wander off too far," she called after him. "Remember what I said about bears."

He gave a dismissive wave over his shoulder to show that he'd heard her. He'd never fought a bear before, but he had his armour on and his sword across his back. He'd be fine.

He missed the way her eyes wandered over his form as he walked away. He also missed how she stood up as soon as he was out of sight and quickly ran in to the woods as well, not far from the path he'd taken.

He was glad to be out of the fire light for a while. It brought out to many bad memories. If he could, he always avoided fire as much as possible. He wasn't even too fond of day light. He preferred it dark and cold over a blazing fire. Perhaps he should have become a sworn shield to the Starks instead of the Lannisters.

He stood behind a tree doing his business. Not that he needed to hide, these wildlings didn't really seem to be concerned with privacy. He could hear not only the king, but also several others being intimate right there under the stars for everyone to see, and no one around them seemed bothered. That they were a close fitted society was to say the least.

He wasn't that far away from camp, he could still see the fires. He didn't really feel like going back there, with all those people practically sleeping on a pile, and the fires blazing from everywhere around them, but it wasn't safe to be alone in the dark either, especially when he didn't know the surrounding area.

He was about to head back when he heard what sounded like a whistle from behind him. After the debate he just had with himself, he thought that it probably wasn't a good idea to go see what it was, but his doglike nature drew him towards it. It was like something in his gut wanted him to follow that sound. He hesitated for a moment before he heard it again.

"Fuck it," he mumbled to himself, turned around and walked towards the whistle.

The forest became thicker and soon the fire lights were only specks in the distance. The ground was bumpier and many times he almost tripped. Sandor was quick with a sword, but he wasn't always so graceful when it came to other situations. Thanks to his large stature, he could easily come clumsy and loud while moving around, especially when he was wearing his armour.

He came up to a small clearing where the moonlight could be seem through the thicket, lighting up his surroundings. He stood there for a minute, waiting for…something. But nothing happened. Just as he was about to give up and turn back around, he heard the whistle again. This time it was right next to him.

He had to look up to see who caused the sound. The Stark bastard was perched in a tree, her back resting against the trunk of it, one of her long legs stretched out on a branch while the other was dangling beneath her.

"Oh, look at that," she mused with a lazy smile. "All I had to do was whistle and you came right to me, like a good dog. Wonder what else I can do to make you come?" She licked her lips. She'd lowered her voice, but he could hear that last bit.

"You're tempting your fate, girl," he growled. He didn't like being teased, and he didn't like having to chase after someone.

"Am I? I think I rather like seeing you angry," she giggled. "And also, "girl"? I think woman is a more fitting thing to call me. You're not that much older than myself actually." She jumped down from the tree and landed gracefully in front of him. For the first time since they met earlier that day, he took the time to actually look at her, as much as he could in the dim light the moon provided.

She was very tall for a woman, at least taller than any woman he'd ever seen. He'd seen her tower over both Robert and Joffrey. The prince had called her ugly, but she wasn't, not really. Had she been a highborn lady she would have been considered ugly. Had she been born a man she would have been too pretty to be taken seriously, not unlike that Knight of Flowers that all the girls were so fond of. She was a strange mixture of feminine and masculine, but she was far from ugly.

She had a strong jawline and brow, and a nose that was slightly crooked from being broken, but only if you looked at it from the right angle. She had a big mouth in a way that when she spread her full lips in an un-shy smile, you could all of her white teeth. He had been witnessing that all night when she was laughing with her comrades. Her hair was dark blonde and messy and often fell in her face. He couldn't see her eye colour in the dark, but he thought he remembered them being a simple brown.

"Are you afraid of me? That's alright, many people are," she stated.

He hadn't even noticed that for every step she took towards him, he took a step back. Suddenly he felt his back hit a tree trunk, and just like that he had nowhere else to go. The Hound had never been cornered like this before. Of course, he had never had a woman throw herself at him before. It's not like women were lining up in the streets to fuck a man like him.

He was not afraid of her like she thought. He could see why other men were intimidated. She was big and strong and she looked every bit a wildling. But then again, most men were cowards who couldn't handle the thought of a powerful woman. All they wanted was someone who shut their mouths and spread their leg whenever they were told to. Here was a woman who wouldn't take that sort of shit from anyone, and Sandor found himself fascinated.

Perhaps fascinated wasn't the right word. As she came closer he could feel his manhood straining against his trousers. The thought of having someone like her made him very hard. The whores of King's Landing were small and delicate and whimpered every time you gripped them too tight, but this one looked like she wouldn't mind playing a bit rough. So why had he been backing away?

He wasn't displeased with her appearance. He was displeased with his own. He was an ugly mutt who had barely spoken to her since they met. Why would she want someone like him, when she could easily convince any other man, or woman for that matter?

She seemed to be reading his mind.

"I like you, Hound," she said when she stood not one foot away from him. Her forehead reached his eyes. "I like your size and I like your voice and I like your face, believe it or not. You think you're ugly. I suppose then it's good for you that I've always liked the ugly ones." She laughed at his widened eyes. Like him, she certainly wasn't afraid to tell anyone the truth.

"You really want me?" he asked. He sounded angry, but she said that she liked him that way so he figured it didn't matter.

She only nodded before stretching her neck up so she could reach his face. Before he could react her lips where on his. He didn't kiss women often, but this he enjoyed. It wasn't a soft kiss like in the songs, but a sloppy, almost violent one. As soon as their lips met his instinct took over. Within a second their mouths were open, tongues wrestling and teeth clanking. She brought her hands up around his neck and in his hair, while Sandor held her waist in a tight grip.

Her left hand was stroking his burned side, but he didn't stop her. He was too busy concentrating on the biting and licking that was going on between them. To was more like a fight than a kiss.

Too soon they had to stop to catch their breaths. They were both panting, but she had a big smile on her face.

"Do you want me now?" she asked smugly. His head was spinning and he could only nod like a damn fool.

"Leyla." He raised his eyebrows, not understanding. "My name is Leyla Snow, in case you'd forgotten." In truth, he had forgotten.

He got his tongue under control and said, "I'm Sandor Clegane." For some reason, he wanted to hear her say his birth name, instead of the nickname he'd been given.

"I know," she smiled. "Lie down, Sandor Clegane, and I will show you the difference between a wildling woman of the northern forest and a southern whore."

All he could do was comply.

**Hello everyone! Thank you so much to all those who favourited and followed. Thank you for the kind reviews. In this chapter I really tried to do Sandor and Robert justice. If you think I failed, please let me know. Tell me what I could have done better.**

**I'm thinking about putting in a sex-scene in the next chapter, but I've never written one before, that's why I stopped this chapter where I did. Tell me if you think I should try. It might not be very good since it's my first one. **


	4. Chapter 4

**Hello. Sorry for the wait. Some stuff happened that I had to deal with and I had Writer's Block. Remember that I've never written anything like this before. I would be happy if you gave me some advise for future reference.**

Just the thought of having someone like the Hound doing what she told him to was incredibly satisfying to Leyla.

He had lied down like she told him and was propped up on his elbows, watching her. His mouth was slightly open, seemingly in shock. _I suppose this doesn't happen to him a lot_, she thought. To make use of the time she had, before he regained control over himself, she began to undress.

It was a complicated process which could have been done seductively, but she herself was getting impatient, so instead she did it hurriedly.

There was nothing erotic about it, just one layer after another coming off.

"Why do you wear so much bloody armour?"

She guessed he was getting impatient too. It was true that she wore a lot of armour. She always did, even though there was no risk of going into battle on a daily basis. It looked nothing like that which a knight wears, more like random pieces of mismatched armour which had been picked up here and there. The thickness of it all made her look even bigger. Some would say it made her look fat, but she didn't think it mattered really, what people thought of her.

"The heaviness helps to train my body. It makes it stronger and able to carry more weight. There's not a lot of people who can run for miles in these boots," she explained as she took off said boots and threw them on the ground. They were thick and fur covered, like the rest of her clothing.

After the first fur coat came a thinner chest plate of iron, followed by a ring mail and a boiled leather chemise, before she came to her undershirt, which she kept on for a little while longer. After that went the armour on her legs, her trousers and small clothes. Thanks to her undershirt she was still partly covered, only her toned legs were showing.

"Well?" she exclaimed. "Are you just going to lie there and let me do all the work? Take your clothes off."

It was an order, not a request. Sandor, who had been watching her with great interest, began to remove his own armour with haste, grunting while he did it, but still doing it. She smiled slyly. This was a common thing when she was in these situations: often the man was so surprised to see the woman take command in such a way, that he simply complied. It seemed it didn't matter who the man was, given that even the Hound acted that way as well.

Once his armour and weapon were disposed of and put in a pile next to hers, she straddled his naked form, one leg on either side of his hips.

Though his face was less than pleasing to the eye, his body made up for it, looking like a fucking ox. Hardened muscle from head to toe, some parts covered by a light coating of dark hair to match that on his head. He was all man, there was no doubt about that. Like the rest of him, he was big where it mattered. His cock was half-hard, but she made sure not to touch it just yet, and instead focus on the rest of him.

Leyla bent down and licked a long line from his naval to his Adam's apple, before she started lapping at his throat. She could both hear and feel him groaned when she started to nibble his pulse point. She caressed his abdominal muscles and felt them flex lightly under her touch. Sandor put his large hands on her back and pulled at her shirt in a desperate attempt to get it off. She could hear the fabric being ripped and straightened up to get the arms off as well.

She quickly took the bindings that held her breasts off to let them spill out into the open. It felt good not to so contained anymore. The binding wasn't always comfortable, but she wore it normally to be able to move properly.

Her nipples had hardened from the cold night air. The gods had been generous when they crafted her upper body, for-like the man below her- she was big to match the rest of her. Before she could resume what she had previously been doing Sandor sat up and attacked her chest with his mouth.

Leyla gasped when his chapped lips came in contact with her areola. His warm tongue stroked one of her nipples in a way that made her grip his hair and press him closer to her, while he used his calloused hand to play with the other.

As good as it felt she needed to regain control. She had planned to be in charge here, and that's what she would do.

Leyla untangled her fingers from his now messy hair, put her hands on his broad shoulders and gave a mighty push. Sandor cursed when his head collided with the ground.

"What'd you do that for?" He was angry again, just the way she liked it. She snickered at his facial expression, but stopped when he gave a hard smack to her bottom. She inhaled sharply at the sensation. Whether it was for pleasure or punishment she did not know, but she liked it anyway.

To tease him further she started grinding her middle against his, letting him feel her wetness on his now fully erect shaft, but no more than that.

She bent down once again to connect their lips. It was obvious that she liked using a lot of tongue, since her mouth was already open when they met. It was sloppy, it was uncontrolled and she loved it. Without words he seemed to understand what she wanted and that was exactly what he gave her.

It was like the other's mouth was a well full of water and they were both dying of thirst. His beard scratched her skin and her breasts were pressed up to his powerful torso, much to the enjoyment of them both.

Almost as a reflex she lifted her hips slightly. With one hand she gripped his manhood, gave it a few strokes and put it in the right position at her entrance. Without further ado she sank down on him, gasping at how his sizes stretched her within.

Their kissing stopped, Leyla taking no more than a second to adjust, before she began rocking back and forth. They moaned in sync when she moved.

Sandor gripped her hips and lifted her up until only the head of his cock was still inside her, before slamming her back down. This was repeated a few times until there was no need to lift her anymore; she placed her hands on his lower stomach and raised herself to do the same motion, while he let his hands roam her upper body.

She stopped soon and presumed with doing small circular movements with her hips. The leaves were rustling in the chilly wind around them and her feet were becoming dirty form digging in to the ground, but neither of them cared about that. Her hands had been exploring his hairy chest when she felt one of his hands moving towards where they were connected. Before she could react his fingers were stroking her clit, increasing her pleasure. His movements were hurried, so she could only guess that he was close as to release as she was.

The feeling started as a growing warmth in her lower stomach, until she couldn't hold it in any longer. Instead of doing that high-pitched whimper that every other woman seemed to make, her release came with a sound that can only be described as something close to a growl, her back arching. She looked down to make her eyes connect with his dark ones.

When her walls squeezed his cock Sandor couldn't do anything else but let go as well. With a loud groan he shot his seed into her belly. She could feel it running down the inside of her thigh, mixing with her own wetness. He hadn't broken their eye contact.

They were both panting when and sweaty when she removed herself from him and laid down with her head on his chest.

"So that's why they call you the Silent Wolf," he grumbled when he'd caught his breath. "You hardly made a fucking sound. Was it that bad for you, woman?"

"It wasn't bad at all, Sandor." She was pleased that he called her woman and not girl. "I just don't do a lot of noise when fucking. Let it go now and go to sleep, lest you what to fall off your horse from exhaustion tomorrow."

It was true; she didn't make a lot of noise. It wasn't that she didn't like it, it was just her way. And Sandor wasn't some kind of exception, she was never that loud in the sack. She didn't feel like telling him, but he was the best companion in bed she'd had in a long time, and she had no regrets seeking his company.

He took her advice and let it go, for soon she heard him snoring lightly under her. She enjoyed the feel of his chest moving her up and down when he breathed and the sound of his heartbeat against her ear, before falling asleep as well.

Something wet was poking her face. Groaning, Leyla opened her eyes slowly to get face to face with the cold nose of a dog.

"Go away," she mumbled under her breath.

Obediently the dog moved, and it took the shadow it had provided with it. The sun's rays hit her eyes from where they were slowly rising behind the trees. Along with her, the forest began to once again come to life. Last night the leaves in the wind had sounded gloomy, but now they were dancing to the tune of the newly awoken birds.

She was about to sit up and go gets dressed when she realized that she couldn't move. Looking down she saw a heavy arm thrown over her waist, holding her in a tight grip. A smile crept on to her face when she thought of last night.

_I like this one_, she thought, _I think I'll keep him for a while_.

With the speed of a snail the sun was creeping higher on the sky. She had told the king that they had to start early in the morning, and though she doubted that he would object to a few more hours of sleep, it would be for the best the sooner they left.

Taking a few last seconds to appreciate the warm torso behind her back, she also felt something else. Sandor was hard again in his sleep, as was not unusual for men in the mornings, and his cock was poking at her lower back.

She lifted his arm without waking him, sat up and spun around to look at his sleeping form. He must have been a heavy sleeper, for he hadn't woken up from the movement. His cock stood proud and erect in the morning light. Thinking it was a better way to wake him up than by force, she leaned in and put her lips around his head to taste him.

He tasted like just about every other man she'd done this with. Leyla had never taken much enjoyment in this particular task, but now, for some reason, she wanted to do it. Maybe it was to further prove to him that she was different from other women. He didn't need to force her, because she did it of her own free will and on her initiative, and he didn't need to pay her when they were done.

Like she had done on his chest last night, she did a long lick from root to tip. He stirred in his sleep but didn't wake up. Once again she put her mouth around him, this time going deeper. Using her tongue and teeth to massage him, she put as much as she could fit in to her mouth without choking and used her hand to cover the rest.

He must have been half awake now, for she felt him put his right hand on the back of her head to guide her movements. He grunted in pleasure and bucked his hips while she bobbed up and down on his shaft.

He mumbled something under his breath but she could hear the words. His tongue seemed to be looser in the morning and-like when you've had too much to drink- couldn't be kept under complete control. Last night he had almost been as quiet as she was, but now he was slurring nonsense.

"Fuck…wildling…bastard," were among the words. It sounded like he said it through clenched teeth.

While her left hand was on his cock, her right reached to play with his sack. It seemed to have been the final draw for him, for without a warning her mouth was filled with his load. She pulled away and swallowed it. It had a salty taste to it which she didn't mind terribly.

When she moved to give him some space, she detected the wet throbbing between her own legs. She had been too focused on her task to notice before. Moving her hand downwards, she began touching herself take care of the little issue.

"You need some help with that?" a gruff voice asked her. Sandor was now sitting up, licking his lips at the sight of her, not taking his eyes off of her fingers.

He leaped at her, surprisingly fast for a man of his size, and suddenly she was on her back with him on top of her. At first he was only paying attention to her neck with his lips, but she squealed-unusually enough- when he waved away her hand to replace it with his own.

There wasn't much finesse to it, but there hadn't been to anything they'd been doing. He stroked her folds, not too gently, before basically shoving long two fingers in to her cunt. It was a shock at first, but when he started to move them she moaned for more, clawing at his shoulders. His other hand squeezed her tit and played with her nipple.

She was glad he was a bit rough, she liked it that way.

While two fingers were inside her, his thumb found her bundle of nerves and started rubbing it. Her breathing sped up as she came close to her breaking point. When she climaxed her teeth grinded together and her fingernails were raking his back, feeling the hard muscle beneath the skin.

Even though neither were much for sentimentality, they stayed in each other's arms for a while, simply holding on to something while coming down from the buzzing high they had given to the other.

After a few minutes Leyla spoke up.

"We need to get moving, or they'll leave without us."

"If the wildlings are ready to leave their queen behind they're more savage than I thought."

"Wouldn't you?" She knew there was no love between the Hound and any of the Lannisters, only a job which he most likely hated, but were too loyal to leave "Perhaps you're not so different from a wildling, Sandor."

That must have angered him for some reason, for he stood up abruptly and went over to his pile of clothing to get dressed. She decided to follow his example. His back was turned to her, but she could imagine his face looking like a thundercloud. Why he had been offended by what she said she did not know.

Perhaps he didn't want to be compared to savages, or perhaps he simply was an angry person by nature who didn't like it when people-especially women, maybe- made observations about him. Or perhaps he knew that they weren't so different after all and didn't like it.

She had put everything back on, except for one thing.

"You ripped my shirt."

He turned around, fastening his sword. "What?" He sounded like he didn't really care.

"My undershirt. You ripped it to pieces. I can't use it now," she spelled out.

"It didn't sound like you were complaining last night," he chuckled.

She rolled her eyes. Not wanting to encourage his ego, she turned her back to him so he couldn't see her smirk. She shook her head, bringing herself back to the present and whistled out loud. Her dogs stood before her in no time.

"Meet my family, Sandor." She didn't really care if he cared. It only seemed fair for him to meet the ones who'd guarded them. "They kept watch over us tonight, as they do with me every night. They would have warned us if anything came too close for comfort."

All four dog seemed curious about this new person that their mistress had accepted enough to let him close to her. They warily walked up to him and sniffed at him. When they decided he wasn't a threat they stared licking him in a friendly way.

"They like you. Usually they growl at strangers. Maybe they think you're one of them, Hound." She chuckled. He was now kneeling at the ground, letting them get closer to his face. It was quite a sight, seeing the fearsome warrior on his knees, petting four huge dog who acted like they'd know him all their lives. He seemed comfortable like this.

"They're all girls except for one. His name is Shadow, he's the one you're petting now. His sisters are Demon, Ripper and Butcher."

"Fierce names so people knows to fear them, right?" he asked without taking his eyes off Ripper, who was currently trying to sit on his lap.

"That's right," she answered smugly. People who knew of her knew of her dogs, and they knew to fear them. Her little babes were her greatest weapons and she was not afraid to use them. They had a reputation to give a gruesome and painful death to anyone she wished.

"Now we really do need to move. We've waited too long already."

"Fine", he grumbled and got back on his feet. It was almost laughable, seeing him behave like a grumpy child because she wouldn't let him play with the dogs any longer. But she understood him. If she was Sandor, she wouldn't want to go back to those people either.

They walked back through the forest side by side, but when they reached the party they parted ways without so much as a good bye. They didn't need words to understand what had happened between them. It was a night of pleasure, not the promise of a lifelong romance.

He mounted his warhorse and she mounted hers, which had been brought for her, along with the rest of the wildling horses.

Her wildlings spread out amongst the southerners, staying mostly on the edges, making sure everyone kept up with the pace. It was a slow pace but still.

Once they were on the move she rode up to travel beside the king, who looked less than happy this morning.

"Damn you, Snow," he grumbled. "It should be a crime to let your king feel like this after a night of drinking." He looked a bit green from the rocking of his horse.

"Maybe I should have warned you, Robert. The wine we keep here in the wild is a bit stronger than what you're used to in the south." She felt a small sting of pity for him.

"Whatever the case, it won't happen again." He sounded very determined, but she knew it would happen again. Most definitely.

While they travelled, she took out a leaf and started chewing it. The leaf was the main ingredient in moon tea and would prevent her from having an unwanted child. It tasted bitter, but there was nothing to do about that.

They continued riding for another week. Leyla was always at the front of the party, Sandor not far behind. During the day she conversed with the king, telling him about her life and he telling her about his. Only one more time did she seek Sandor out to spend the night with. Her needs were fulfilled at the time and if he wanted more he could ask for it, but he didn't. She was alright with that.

The forest had thinned out long ago and taking its place was hills and plains. Everything seemed grey up here; the sky, the cliffs, the grass, even the water was gloomy.

However, they didn't have to endure the pessimism of the landscape for too many days, for soon they were met with a most welcome sight.

Not far off, on the other side of some hills, lied Winterfell.

Soon they would be feasting on all sorts of food they hadn't been able to eat while on the move. The fires would warm their freezing skin and they would sleep in real beds.

What Leyla mostly looked forward to was seeing her family again. It had been so long now. She could only hope that they were all still on friendly terms with her, and that they had missed her as much as she had missed them all.


	5. Chapter 5

It felt good to be riding along the streets of Winterfell again. It had been so long since she'd been there the last time. Everything looked exactly like she remembered it. The houses and the markets and the people had hardly changed at all.

When they got closer Leyla sped up her horse, leaving the royal party behind, knowing that Robert wouldn't hold her back. In a slow gallop, with her dogs running by her side, her horse took her in to the courtyard where she was met with a most welcome sight.

Her family stood lined up before her. Her father was in the middle with his wife on his left with little Rickon next to her. His older siblings were on Ned's right side ranked up based on their ages, Robb closest to him and Bran out on the end. They were wearing thick fur cloaks like most northerners did.

Leyla jumped off her horse and without making sure it got taken care of she ran towards them. Property be damned, and dignity too. She had missed them and she wanted to give them a proper hello.

"Father!" she exclaimed, throwing her arms around his neck, hardly giving him time to prepare for the attack.

He huffed when her strong hands slapped against his back. She was now taller than both him and most of the other men that stood around them. "It would seem my little girl isn't so little anymore." He smiled at her proudly.

She had barely left his arms before she was jumped by the younger children. Arya, Bran and Rickon were all clinging to her, hoping she'd hug them first. Eventually she simply lifted them all up at the same time to make it fare. They squealed of joy when she had them up in the air.

"You're all so much bigger than I remember. When did that happen?" She let them go and turned to ruffle Robb's hair. She knew he hated it when she did that, yet she could never resist it. He was her little brother after all.

"Stop it!" He batted her hand away and hugged her.

"Look at you, almost turned into a man since the last time I saw you. Even got a beard now, if you can call it that," she said and playfully grabbed his chin, which had a few hairs on it.

Before he could protest Leyla turned her attention to Sansa, who was a bit more collected than the others. "You grow more beautiful for every day that passes, sweet sister," Leyla told her. She brought her sister in to a tender embrace, knowing Sansa wasn't as fond of her rough nature as their siblings. She was every bit a lady, even though she was very young still.

As she stood in front of lady Catelyn she became hesitant. His father's wife had always been tolerant of her, but never displayed any feelings of affection close to those she had for her own children. She was friendly enough, but there was an underline of displeasure to her behaviour. Perhaps it was because Leyla reminded her of Ned's other bastard. However, at this moment there seemed to be no spite from her, as she brought Leyla in to her arms.

"It's truly wonderful to see you, my dear," said Cat softly.

Ned looked pleased that his wife and baseborn daughter got along. It was no secret that Cat had no love for Jon Snow, but in a way Leyla could understand her. Though Jon himself was not at fault, he would always serve as a reminder of her husband's betrayal to their marriage.

Speaking of Jon, Leyla saw him standing behind the Stark family, politely waiting his turn, though he was practically bouncing up and down where he stood. Leyla was about to approach him when the rest of the people she had travelled with entered through the gates. The presence of the royals demanded all of the attention, and greeting her brother would have to wait for a little while.

The king greeted every Stark with delight, while Cersei Lannister's mood was much colder. Soon Robert and Eddard had wondered off to go to the crypts, where the king's one true love, Lyanna Stark, laid resting.

It was up to lady Cat to take care of the rest of the guests, which she did with a charm Leyla could only dream to possess.

Once everything had been taken care of as smoothly as possible Leyla looked in to the crowd of people to see if she could find Jon, but she was interrupted by someone pulling at her sleeve. She looked down to find Arya, who looked unusually shy, and her brothers standing next to her. She looked like she wanted to say something, so Leyla bent down to be at her eye level.

"We want to say hello to your dogs, but they're too scared to do it without you," she teased Bran and Rickon.

"We're not scared." Bran retorted, obviously trying to convince himself.

Arya was about to say something back when Leyla felt she had to interfere before a fight broke out between the siblings in the middle of the courtyard.

"Of course you can meet them. It'll be good practice for when your own pups grow up. You can't afford to be scared if you're planning to have those beasts around." She had seen the direwolves puppies running around in the short time she'd been there and to be honest, she was a bit jealous.

She lifted Rickon up on her shoulders and led them to where her dogs stood waiting obediently. All the children were hesitant at first to get to close to the huge canines, but they slowly eased up a bit. They became braver after Leyla explained that they were only dangerous when she commanded it.

"Why do the others have scary names while this one is just Shadow?" Arya asked while scratching the male behind the ear. Bran had been wrestled to the ground by Demon and Butcher, while Rickon was happily trying to ride Ripper who was delighted at the attention.

"Just Shadow? What do you mean 'just Shadow'?" Arya looked confused at the question. "The others are named after their fierceness in battle. He's a good fighter too, of course, but he is the stealthiest one of them. He is the quietest and slyest. He's the silent protector of his sisters and he is always there, like a shadow. Just because he doesn't always storm into battle fangs first doesn't mean he is any less valuable."

Her little sister looked down on her feet, seemingly ashamed that she assumed Shadow was less worth than his sisters. To cheer her up again, Leyla suggested Arya should show her what she could do with a bow and arrow. As expected, Arya's little face lit up at the suggestion and led the way to the archery range. Her brothers were quickly on their heels.

Time flew and before they knew it, it was time for the feast with the purpose of welcoming their guests.

There was food and drink as far as the eyes could see. Some would even say too much, but they would need a lot of food to be able to feed so many hungry soldiers and wildling at the same time. There was usually no love between them, but for a feast like this they were able to put their differences aside. They were all just people tonight. Leyla walked through the crowded room, saying hello to those she knew and introducing herself to some that she didn't. She had ordered her wildlings not to cause too much trouble while they were here, and so far they had managed.

Her dogs were running around under the tables along with the direwolves, begging for food ffrom everyone around. Shadow and Butcher were currently engaged in a fierce battle over a turkey leg in the middle of the hall and some people had begun making bets.

She was looking for a familiar face, and eventually she found him. Apparently Jon must have been looking for her too, because he was walking towards her with determined steps. They didn't hug once they reached each other. Leyla wasn't always too keen on showing affection in public and Jon respected that. The only time she was really did that was with her family, as had been displayed earlier, but given the choice she always preferred to keep people at arm's length distance.

"It's been a long time, sister." He smiled affectionately. His hair had grown since the last time they saw each other and he was a bit taller, but she still towered over him. She always teased him for it and he was always extremely annoyed at the fact.

"Too long, little brother." She clasped his hand in a brotherly grip. He was one of the few outsiders who never questioned the fact or complained about her acting more like a man. For that she was eternally grateful.

Of all her siblings Jon was the one she was closest to. Most likely because they were both bastards, and because he knew her secret.

"How is life at Winterfell treating you?" she asked.

He hesitated for a second before answering. "It's alright."

"But?" Leyla could see that something was troubling him.

"But nothing. I have my family, a roof over my head, food to eat, a warm bed to sleep in and I even get weapon training."

She raised her eyebrows. It sounded like he was pointing out the obvious good thing so he wouldn't have to talk about the bad ones. She kept on staring him down until he finally caved.

"Alright, fine!" he sighted. "I'm thinking about taking the black." He looked like he was struggling to keep his eyes on hers.

Had Leyla had less control over her impulses she would have gasped. As it was now, she stared at him with wide eyes, trying to decipher if she'd heard him correctly. Though the feast continued around them, the silence between the two stretched until it was on the brink of being uncomfortable. Jon cleared his throat to get her thoughts back down on earth.

"Have you lost your fucking mind?" she hissed. "Once you join the Night's Watch there's no getting out. You'll be trapped in that icy pit forever!"

"Maybe that's what I want; where I belong."

"No, Jon, it's not! You've never even left Winterfell, but I've been north of that bloody Wall- seven hells, it's where I come from! It's cold and barren and it's no place for heroes, only survivors. You either starve or freeze to death. It would be a hard and lonely life and a short one."

"Do you have so little faith in me?" was his only counter argument. Luckily for him, it worked.

"Of course I have faith in you," she admitted with a tired sigh. She ran her hand through her messy hair to get it out of her face. "I just want my brother to be safe, and not being an idiot."

He laughed a little at that. "I will have uncle Benjen there to keep me company. I'm a good fighter, so I'll be able to take care of myself. I just want to do my part in serving the realm."

That was partly a lie. She knew that he hadn't always felt at home in Winterfell, just like her. He wanted to find his own path in life, but the Night's Watch wouldn't be as simple as he thought it would be, but Leyla didn't have the heart to tell him that.

"If that's what you want I can't stop you from going. But I still don't have to like it."

He nodded, showing his appreciation at her understanding.

"How has your return to Winterfell been so far?" he asked, changing the subject.

"It's been good. It's nice to see my family again, and it's been a while since I've attended a proper feast like this, even if some people in the company are more enjoyable than others," she nodded towards the head table where the queen was currently making Sansa uncomfortable with the subject of conversation, but her sister was trying not to show it. When they had finished speaking Sansa returned to her seat and proceeded with staring at prince Joffrey.

Leyla was not happy that Sansa had begun to like him. He was rude and inconsiderate and overconfident, but Sansa was still too young to understand the cruelty that was in the world, and so, she only saw what she wanted to see. Leyla felt the protective urges of an elder sibling towards the redhead. She could only hope that Sansa would learn eventually, and that her lesson wouldn't bring on to much heartbreak for her fragile self.

Looking a bit further down the hall she noticed the Hound leaning against a wall with a tankard of ale in his hand. He was standing not far from the prince, giving the illusions that he was guarding him, but it was obvious that he considered himself off duty.

"I hope you'll excuse me, Jon, but I have somewhere else I need to be." She started walking towards the scarred man, but had only taken a few steps when Jon gripped her arm, stopping her.

"Do you really think that's a wise thing to do?" he asked. His eyes were also on Sandor, but instead of the sly look that Leyla sported, he looked worried. "Isn't it tonight that you…" Leyla knew what he meant.

"That's not until tomorrow. I'll be fine tonight." she assured him, taking his hand off her elbow.

He sighted and shook his head. "I just don't want you to do something that might get you in to trouble."

"You're the one to talk about bad decisions, Brother Jon of the fucking Night's Watch," she mocked in a teasing tone. "If you want me to have faith in you, then you have to do the same for me. I'm a grown woman, whereas you're still just a daft boy. In fact, I'm more of a man than you are. Unlike you, I know what I'm doing!" she cut him off when he was about to protest to being called a boy. "Don't argue with me now, Jon. If you're so fucking worried about how I might behave tonight, I suggest you be wise enough not to stand in my way."

A few tense moments passed by. Leyla was getting angrier by the second, even though she didn't really have a reason to be. Jon was just trying to look out for her, but like he said: tomorrow was her time and that often resulted in a bit of a temper from her side in the days around it. Eventually he caved.

"You're right, sister. Any man with his head on his shoulders knows not to ever stand in your way."

Leyla thought he would be disappointed of her small outburst of anger, since he himself always preferred to keep things calm, but he gave her a small smile.

"It's good to know that some things never change with you," he told her softly. "Forgive me for doubting you."

"There's nothing to forgive, you stupid bastard. But now you really must excuse me, because I see Jaime Lannister coming this way and believe me; that is not the company I wish to have tonight."

She ducked away behind her laughing brother and made way towards Sandor Clegane who, unlike most of the other men, still wore his armour and weapons. Her father wasn't very keen on people baring arms at his feasts, especially one where both Lannister men and wildlings were involved, and had kindly asked them all to leave their weapons behind for tonight. Only Sandor and a few other men had disobeyed, most of them wildlings who never put their weapons down.

He stood near the exit and instead of stopping Leyla passed right by him, giving him a sly look when she was close enough. She had hoped that would be enough for him to understand what she wanted, but when she stood in the doorway to hall she looked back and saw that he was still in the same place as before, only now he was looking at her direction.

Her tone of voice was low, for they weren't that far from each other and she knew that he would hear her. "Come here, Hound. If you behave I'll give you a treat." She padded her thigh like one would when trying to entice a dog. Leyla wasn't bothered by the fact that some people had heard her, nor by the comments they made or the looks they gave her- like they couldn't believe the daughter of Eddard Stark was willingly choosing the Hound as a bed mate.

He looked almost surprised at her words, but finally started moving towards her none the less.

They left together and wandered outside, he a few steps behind her, like he was used to from his time as a guard. When Leyla noticed that, she slowed down a bit until she was right next to him.

"You don't have to walk behind me, you know. I'm not some bloody noble lady who's too fancy to walk next to anyone with a lower status. Not that you have lower status. In fact, if anything you have higher status than me: you being a royal guard while I'm just some wildling wench."

He didn't reply to that. He just kept silent and walked next to her while she led him to the location she had in mind when she left the Great Hall. Soon they arrived.

"What are we doing here?" Sandor grumbled, taking in their surroundings.

The Godswood was dark and quiet. The trees looked eerie during this night and one felt a chill creep down ones spine when looking at the grim face of the heart tree, pale and cold and with tears of red sap streaming down the bark. The lake was completely still, acting like a mirror and reflecting the millions of stars above them and the moon which was almost full.

"I thought that was obvious? I wouldn't have allowed you to even have a second night with me if I didn't think you were a good fuck," Leyla said cheekily. She had already begun to remove her clothing and armour, tossing them aside like she had on their first night together, just one week ago.

"I know _why_ you brought me here, I just want to know why _here_," he snapped. He didn't like being spoken to as if he was stupid.

"I've wanted to do this for a while now, but hadn't found someone to do it with. You should be honoured I chose you for it."

She stood before him and started taking off his clothing as well. He didn't protest. He helped her to get them off, so that it would go faster. He wasn't one to say no when a woman offered herself to him. Soon he was as naked as her. It was a bit nippy outside, but no worse than it had been the night on the Kingsroad. The cold might have affected the private parts of lesser men, but he was too big to start with to ever be considered small. Leyla put her arms around his neck and brought him downwards to the ground, her beneath his large form. She began to lick and nip at his throat. His hands wandered across her back and arse as she brought her legs up to wrap them around his hips.

"You still haven't told me why you took me here of all places."

Letting go of his neck with her mouth, she raised her head and whispered huskily in her his ear, "I want the Gods to see us."

That was all the explanation required for both of them.

Things started to heat up fast. Neither needed much preparation, for all that had occupied their thought since they left the Great Hal was what was to come. Sandor was already hard as a rock when he placed his lips on her tits, feasting away at them, and Leyla could feel her wetness increasing between her thighs. Abruptly she tore away from him. He didn't time to ask her what she was doing before she turned around. He got the message when she began rubbing her arse against his groin in a wanton way. They took a second to stead themselves and without further ado, he entered her.

They both moaned at the sensation. She was tight around him and Sandor felt a strange sort of comfort at her warmth. He filled up every inch of her. Leyla had never felt so complete. It was like something had been missing her whole life, but now in this moment, she had found it with this brutish dog who enjoyed killing as much as she did. She spread her legs wider so he was able to go deeper inside her. His lips were leaving his mark at her neck.

Leyla was given a sort of rush at the thought that their act was being witnessed by the Old Gods. Something about that made it feel special and official. What was official she didn't know, but she liked it.

By now he was practically pounding in to her. Leyla knew she would be sore in the morning but right now she couldn't care less. All she wanted was for Sandor to give her all that he could give.

He grunted and she growled while they gave everything to each other. Sandor's hands had previously been squeezing her tits, making her moan even louder, but now they moved downwards. He took a hard hold on her hips, knowing that the grip would cause bruising. Leyla's nails had been scraping at the back of his thighs, but now that he had a more firm grip and a faster, harder pace, she had to put them on the ground in front of her in order not to fall over. Her fingers curled and dirt came in under her nails.

Had anyone seen them they would have thought the two looked like a mating pair of dogs. For in that moment, that is what they were. Both Sandor and Leyla let their animalistic instincts take over, and suddenly they were not in control anymore. They were two canines driven by their animal mating lust. He was the strong male on top, and she was the not so submissive female being pounded into the ground.

They reached their ends at the same time. With her back turned to him, Sandor could only hear her howl when she came- which was the loudest sound he had heard her do while they fucked- but he failed to see how her teeth were bared and how her eyes flashed yellow for a second as they were directed towards the moon. It was over before it could be noticed, but Leyla felt both strength and rage rush through her when it happened.

They were mates, though neither truly understood it, and now the witnessing of the Gods had made it official.

**Hello everyone. Thank you to all who have read this far and thank you for the lovely reviews! I just want you to know that there will be some time to wait between chapters, but I promise not to give up on it! Anyone who wants to is welcome to follow me on Tumblr. My name is kings-never-die. My love to you all!**


	6. Chapter 6

The next day Leyla walked around with a swagger in her steps and a lazy smile on her face. Her mood must have been contagious, for her dogs, who trailed along after her, were wagging their tails ad showing their own happiness.

Not even the sight of queen Cersei, who was gliding down the street not far from her, could bring Leyla's mood down. The queen was inspecting the goods of some of the markets stalls that might have interested her, but she seemingly hated everything she saw, going by the way she held her nose up in the air and refusal to look any of the salesmen in the eye. She looked as if she found the whole place repulsive, which she probably did. The North wasn't fancy enough for the great and mighty Cersei Lannister of Casterly Rock.

When they came closer to each other, standing on different sides of the street, the queen let her eyes sweep over the wildling woman in a scrutinizing way. She must have strongly disapproved of what she saw, for the look in her eyes was cold and judgmental. Leyla hadn't had the pleasure of speaking with the queen yet nor did she hope she'd ever have to. During their journey Leyla had made sure that she would never have to be in Cersei's presence longer than necessary and they had never exchanged any words. Only looks that said "_Though I respect your strength, I hate you for what you have done to me_".

The Lannisters were the reason Leyla had lost many good men and women. Cersei's reason for hating her was most likely the fact that her wildling took great pleasure in taking and destroying Lannister property. No doubt the queen had lost some pretty neckless or other trinket to her highway robbers.

However, today Leyla did not feel the need to focus her hatred on the lioness. She was far too happy for that. So when Cersei passed her on the other side of the street, her handmaidens and younger children fluttering behind her, Leyla only gave her a boasting smile. The queen was not used to the colder climate and despite the fact that she had slept on the ground Leyla knew that she had had a much better night than the queen, for the memory of it was the reason to her constant smirk.

As she walked away, Leyla could see the queen displeasingly eyes her dogs, who were growling at the older woman. They must have sensed that their mistress didn't like her very much, yet they did nothing without her say-so.

Leyla made her way towards the training yard. Despite her good mood, she now had the sudden urge to shove someone's face into the ground and make them eat the mud beneath her boots. Whoever she saw first would have to do.

The closer she got the louder the clang of steel against steel became. There were more people than usual there this morning, considering all the extra guests to Winterfell. Most of them stood in groups. Wildlings wrestling on the ground or beating each other with whatever weapons they could find, northerners doing actual proper training, and southerners sanding a bit off, looking and laughing at the rest of them.

"Theon Greyjoy," she shouted when she spotted the boy, standing somewhat in the shadows. At first the boy looked startled at hearing his name being said in such a way, like he had done something naughty and was afraid that he'd just been caught. He relaxed when he saw who the voice belonged to. "Come here, boy." She gestured with her head, resulting in her hair being blown into her face. He ran across the yard with eager steps.

"I knew you couldn't resist me for long, Leyla. After all, I have that effect on women," he said with a cocky smile, hands crossed over his chest.

She snickered at him. "You wish, Theon. I wanted to ask if you were interested in sparring with me, but seeing as you can do little else than think with your cock, I'll just have to find someone else." She turned around to walk away.

"No, wait!" he exclaimed. Leyla smiled with her back to him. She knew this would work. "I'm sorry if I offended you. Please let me do the honour of being your sparring partner." He sounded so small, like a child telling someone he was sorry because his mother forced him to.

This was what they did. He flirted with her shamelessly, she acted offended and he apologized, after which they acted like brother and sister again, Leyla treating him no different than she did her other brothers. Sometimes he did take things a bit too far, not only with her but with other girls as well. Leyla didn't like seeing girls being mistreated in a way which made them uncomfortable. On these occasions she really would lecture him, and hopefully he learned from it, given the amount of respect he had for her.

She faced him again, this time a truly happy smile on her face- no more teasing from either of them.

"Of course I will give you that honour, Theon. Go on, choose your weapon." She pushed him playfully towards the table where weapons had been stacked for the training. Some of them were real weapons whereas others were blunted. Some were even made of wood. Theon immediately dived on the sharpest sword of the collection, taking a few confident swings with it.

"Put that down, boy, before you take out your own eye with it," she commanded him.

He pouted with his lip, looking hurt at her words. "You don't think I can fight with this? I'm as good with a real sword as anyone else here." He buffed up his chest to make himself look bigger. He wanted to look like he belonged with all the warriors surrounding them.

"I don't doubt you confident, that's for sure. But your training still isn't completed and you have yet to see actual battle. If both you and I fought with real weapons only one of us would walk out of here still in one piece, and it wouldn't be you, Theon. So put the sword down, and pick up a blunted one."

His pride had been wounded, but after some hesitation he did what she said. Her words had angered him. _Good_, she thought, _it's more fun to fight when one of us is angry_. For some reason Leyla's thoughts were drawn back to last night. Fighting wasn't the only activity that was more fun when one of the involved was angry.

"What are you so happy about?" They had moved to the middle of the yard so that no one stood within reach of the swords. Theon had raised his blade and pointed it at her.

"Oh, I just had a good night, that's all," she sighted happily. Leyla playfully swatted his sword with her own. They wouldn't be seriously fighting, just passing the time with some child's play.

"Yeah?" he mused. "Well, from that smile on your face I'd say you were thoroughly shagged through the mattress."

"How would you know? It's not like you've ever made anyone look like that," she teased.

He must have taken real insult from that, because after that comment he came at her with much more force. There was no more talking. Theon fought with anger, but let it blind him instead of using it as fuel. This made it much easier for Leyla to tire him. Whenever he raised his sword up above his head and swung it downwards or made a hard swing from the side it was easy for Leyla to dodge it entirely. Sometimes she would humour him and actually let her sword clash with his, but it was mostly him trying to hit her and her effortlessly avoiding the blunt blade by taking a step away. Theon's feet looked almost glued to the ground, resulting in her dancing around him, while he still tried to get in a hit. They exchanged blows for a while. Theon had by now forgotten about her comment, but was still irritated over the fact that he couldn't get to her. Leyla wanted to laugh at him, but figured that his pride was already wounded as it was.

She was about to call out to Theon and say that the fight was over, but realized that he wouldn't stop until one of them was defeated. His arrogance wouldn't allow anything less.

When Theon took a second to breathe, his sword hanging by his side as he s that she had stopped momentarily as well, Leyla made a quick movement and stepped closer to him before anyone could detect that she had dropped her sword on the ground to get her right hand free. Pulling her arm back slightly she brought it forward and punched him in the gut. She didn't put a lot of effort into it, but she was a lot stronger than Theon and with a groan he sank down on the ground, landing on his knees before her, gasping for air.

"Do you give up?" she asked.

He looked up at her, surprise and pain written all over his face. He took a few breaths. "You- you cheated," he wheezed, holding a hand to his stomach.

Leyla shook her head. "There is no cheating in battle, Theon. There is only winning and losing, and you just lost. Wildlings aren't known to show mercy. If this was a real fight you'd be dead by now. Be glad that I like you too much to do you any serious harm." He grasped her extended hand and stood back up on his feet, a bit wobbly at first, but regained his balance soon enough.

She put a hand on his shoulder and looked him in the eye. "When you fight for your life, it doesn't matter if you do it honourably. What matters is whether you want to live or not."

"Lord Stark says that honour is a virtue, and that one should always honour your foe as you would a friend." His voice was raspy but his head was held high, and the words he spoke made his eyes glimmer. Leyla was almost sad to take that form him.

"Does Lord Stark also say that your footwork is fine as it is?" He looked surprised at her question. "Start by working on your moving your feet more, then on getting your anger under control while fighting. If you want to honour your opponent you might as well bend the knee and let him cut of your head without any fucking resistance whatsoever. The winner of the fight is the one who's left standing, not the one who fought with most honour."

Theon's eyes had met with the ground, but he nodded anyway. It was a hard lesson to learn, but it was necessary. If a young boy wanted to make it out of the battle field in one piece he couldn't let his head be filled with dreams of grandeur and glory. They had to focus on the task at hand and of getting out of there alive.

While they talked Jory had approached them from the side.

"My lady, your lord father wishes to speak with you."

Leyla gave him a confirming nod and bent down to pick up the sword that she had dropped. She placed it in Theon's free hand.

"I'm not saying that you're a bad fighter. In fact, you're very good. You just need to focus a little more on what's important. And what is that again?" she inquired.

"Survival," he admitted lowly after a few seconds.

"That's right. Now go find someone to help you train your footwork. I need to go see what father wants."

He nodded and wandered off with the two blunt swords in his hands. Before they began there had been a bounce in his steps. Now he looked like he was in deep thought, which he probably was after her lesson. Theon was still young, but he had to grow up and face the harsh reality sometime; that not all of his opponents would settle for giving him a punch to the stomach and send him on his way, nor would they all fight as honourably as his teachers.

Her father was waiting for her when she entered his chamber. On his desk were piles of papers and letters, no doubt of an important nature, but Leyla didn't care about them. It wasn't her business what went on in the realm.

"To what do I owe the pleasure, father?" she asked.

Eddard Stark had been standing in the window with his hands clasped behind his back, looking out at the training yard below. Now he walked over to sit in his large chair behind the desk. "I saw you fighting with Theon. It's good that you help him. He's a good lad, but he can get a bit… overenthusiastic, at times. But he's always taken your lessons to heart. What did you teach him this time?"

She sat down in the chair opposite to him without being asked to. "I just taught him some things about the wildling way of fighting, that's all," she shrugged her shoulders.

Ned did not look as pleased anymore. He cleared his throat after a few seconds of silence and said, "I don't know if that is such a good idea, Leyla."

"And why not?" Her father looked uncomfortable at her question and shifted in his seat.

"Like I said, he can get a little overexcited with certain things, and fighting is one of them. I don't need you to turn him into some sort of-"he stopped the next word from coming out of his mouth, but Leyla wouldn't have it.

"Some sort of what?" she probed. "A savage, like me. Is that what you were going to say? A fucking wildling, running around the forest, destroying anything in his path? Is that what you're afraid he'll turn out like?"

"I didn't say that," he defended himself.

"I know he's the son of your enemy, but he stopped being your prisoner long ago. I love that boy like a brother, and I'll keep giving him lessons in what I think is important until he says that he's had enough." Her tone made it clear that that was the end of the discussion on the raising of Theon Greyjoy.

Leyla thought that Ned would be mad at her, perhaps tell her not to lecture him on how to raise his children, or in this case his ward. But to her big surprise he laughed. Not a mocking laughter that made her feel judged, but a kind one.

"You remind me so much of your mother," he chuckled. "You certainly have her temper, that's one thing for sure."

The anger she had felt before disappeared when she heard this. She missed her mother greatly and to hear that they had been alike warmed her heart. Her parents had never loved each other, but there was a mutual respect between them. Tasha had known that Eddard one day would have to be married to some noble woman, and Eddard knew that Tasha would never give up her wildling way of life. They enjoyed the time they had together and parted ways without any bitterness. It was the birth of Leyla that brought them together as friends once more, for Ned wanted to be with his first born daughter and Tasha wanted her child to have a father.

Both father and daughter were lost in memories for some time, before they were brought back by Ned's next words.

"But I didn't call you in here to speak of Theon, or your mother. I wanted to present you with a gift."

Once again Leyla was surprised. Her people weren't exactly known for giving things away, but more for taking them. She could count the gifts she had received in her life on one hand. That's what made this one so special.

Ned led her up to a table on the other side of the room. Something was lying on top of the table, but the fur it was covered with made the shape look really strange and she couldn't make out what it was. Her father nodded with his head for her to uncover it and she did. What she saw made her eyes go wide.

"I had them made especially for you. Think of them as a late name day present, since I didn't have the chance to see you then. They're a bit heavier than normal ones, but I figured that you could handle it."

Leyla let her hands wander over the objects on the table. The mace was a fearsome weapon. The sharp spikes on the head, which was slightly bigger than a usual one, were sure to break a man's head in and definitely his armour as well. The shaft was made of metal to make it more durable and was, like the head, a bit bigger than a normal mace, probably to adapt to her own size. Picking it up Leyla noticed that it was heavy, but not nearly as heavy as it looked. The smith must have made the shaft hollow to make it a bit lighter. On the battlefield it's easier to kill someone with a sword or a spear, but Leyla never quite mastered the art of sword fighting as well as her father or brothers had. She preferred to attack using the blunt force of a heavy mace. Where swords were used to cut someone down, maces were used to beat someone down and that suited her just fine.

Beneath the spiked club was a shield. There was nothing special about it really. It looked like any other shield that Winterfell produced for its soldiers, but there was no carved out direwolf on it. On the inside, besides the handle in the middle, there were also two straps so that it could be carried on her back if she had to. Leyla was trained to fight with a shield, both in defence and offence, and this was a gift she appreciated.

"Father, I don't know what to say, except thank you." She was truly moved by the gesture. There wasn't a lot in life which she hadn't acquired by fighting, and to receive gifts in this way made her feel slightly unworthy of them, but to deny them would hurt her father's feelings.

"I can't have my daughter running around with poorly made weapons, now can I? And they will also come in handy if you choose to accept my offer."

Of course there had to be a catch to it all. "What offer?" she asked.

Once again he sat down behind his desk and shifted some papers from one pile to another. "Don't look so suspicious, my dear. I'm not asking you to throw yourself on someone's sword. It's just that…" he seemed reluctant to say whatever it was. "You may have heard that Sansa is now betrothed to prince Joffrey."

Leyla couldn't help but to sigh and roll her eyes. She had heard about it and she didn't like it. During their journey here Leyla had seen a taste of what the prince was like, and it as not pleasing in the least. She knew that Sansa liked him, maybe even thought that she loved him, but she was young and innocent. Leyla would hate to see her baby sister get hurt, and if this thing with the prince went through it would end badly one way or the other.

"I don't like it," she said. "Sansa hasn't known him for long enough to know what he's really like. She'll regret this and I'm not saying that to lecture her, I'm saying it because it's true."

"I know," he admitted with a sight. "Even for the short time he's been here I've seen t too. But there's nothing you or I can do to change it. It's the king's wish, and Sansa's too."

Leyla ran a hand through her hair and tiredly leaned back on the chair. She closed her eyes for a second and took a deep breath to calm herself. When she opened her eyes she noticed that Eddard had done the exact same thing. Once in a while she would see similarities in their behaviour between them that always made her smile, but not this time.

He continued speaking. "What I'm asking you is… I want you to come with us to King's Landing, if only for a short time." She was about to interrupt, but he didn't let her. "Both the girls will need someone to look after them when I cannot, and who better to do that than their sister? They trust you and they love you. If not for them, do it for me."

He sounded tired and he wasn't even officially Hand of the King yet. It took little convincing for Leyla to make up her mind. She knew that her father would need help down in the south, and her sisters were too precious to her to ever let them get hurt, by royalty or anyone else.

"Of course I'll come with you, father. There's no need to make me feel guilty about it," she joked. "And I'll even bring ten of my men as an extra precaution."

"Thank you, from the bottom of my heart." He touched the place where pin that marked him the Hand soon would be.

"Thank your blacksmith for producing such fine gifts to bribe me with." After their discussion she wanted to keep the mood light.

She succeeded with that when he laughed along with her. Leyla stood up to leave, but before she was out of the door his voice called her back.

"Since we're speaking of marriages; I'm assuming that you still haven't found anyone worthy enough to be your husband?"

Frustrated, she put her hand over her face and made a sound of disagreement. "We've talked about this before, father."

"I know we have, but you're twenty five years old. Most women your age had already had several children. Call it a father's concern. Isn't there anyone you might imagine spending your life with?"

Briefly an image of Sandor Clegane popped up before her eyes. She liked spending time with him and he seemed to feel the same way. But there were no such things as marriages amongst wildlings, and she quickly got the picture out of her head.

Leyla knew she'd have to give him an answer to his question. "If I do find someone, you'll be the first to know," she told him reassuringly. It was a vague answer, but he understood that it was the best he was going to get at the moment. He nodded to let her know that she was dismissed.

Walking outside she noticed that the sun would soon begin to set. She's have to leave now if she wanted to make it on time.

When she walked towards the gates she heard the most unpleasant sound. It was the laughter of that snotty little brat prince. Some younger boys were sitting on the ground playing with wooden horses and knights and Joffrey was standing above then, mocking them for being childish, when he was only a few years older than them. When she walked closer she could hear what he said.

"You'll never be real knights, you know. When I'm king I'll be trained to fight with real knights, and you'll be here emptying some lord's chamber pot."

Leyla rolled her eyes. Just before he had told them what babies they were for playing with toys, but here he was, giving the most childish insult she'd ever heard.

Sandor was standing not far away-he was the boy's sworn sword after all. Leyla went to stand beside him, but he didn't notice her. She thought for a while to put the prince in his place, but the northern boy didn't seem effected by his insults. In fact, as soon as he looked away for a second, they snickered at his word. They must have thought the same thing of him as Leyla did. _Clever for being so young_, she thought. When Joffrey's eyes were on them they went back to looking scared, but now, at a shorter distance, she could plainly see that they faking it. She gave an unladylike snort at this. That finally got Sandor's attention. He spoke with a low voice so the prince wouldn't hear.

"Didn't hear you move. After last night I thought that whole "Silent Wolf"-thing was just a ruse, but I guess I was wrong. I've never heard a woman howl like that before," he scoffed. He seemed pleased with himself that he was the one who was the cause of that sound coming out of her.

"But you've never had a woman like me before, have you." It wasn't a question. She knew that he hadn't. There were extremely few women like her out there.

"No, I haven't," he agreed. "If you come to my room tonight, I'll see if I can make you sound like that again. Unless you're still tired from last night," he said with a cocky smile. Leyla liked it when he smiled, no matter the nature of it. There was nothing wrong with his face to begin with in her opinion, but it changed it somehow in a pleasant way. Too bad she'd have to disappoint him.

"Not tonight. I have other business to attend to. But if you want company of a canine instead of a lion, my dogs are still fond of you."

The smile slipped off his face but he said nothing. Leyla would have liked nothing more than to say yes, but there was no way she could. She gave him a pat on his arm in a sort of comforting way and, for her own sake, gave the hardened muscle she found there a squeeze, just for her own pleasure.

When she walked away she made sure to "accidently" bump into the prince a little harder than necessary. He stumbled and huffed and she heard him mumble something like "Uncivilized savage". His words didn't face her; it was nothing she hadn't heard before.

She walked through all of Winterfell until she reached the edge of the forest. The sun was now just about gone from the sky. She could feel in the air that it was going to be a cold night, like all the other nights up here, but she would have to worry about being cold. She had been walking for about twenty minutes through the thicket of trees when she accepted that he would leave her alone. The Hound had followed her here from the town. How he'd escaped the grasp of the prince she did not know. He wasn't a very graceful hunter- he'd broken of branches and stumbled on rocks and made a lot of noise. At first she thought that he wanted her to notice him, but he hid (quite poorly) whenever she looked back. She could excuse his bad hiding places. He had a large body that was hard to cover up completely.

She made not to make any noise. She wasn't called the Silent Wolf for nothing. She walked quietly despite her size and weight in order for him to lose her between the trees, but he was persistent. Eventually she gave up and just let him follow her. If he wanted to see, she'd let him. Be it on his own head.

Soon she had reached a good location. She was far away from any people, so they wouldn't able to hear her. She began to undress. She knew Sandor would emerge from the shadows, because he still thought that she wasn't aware of his presence. When she was as naked as the day she was born she stood completely still. It wouldn't be long now. She could hear him breathing and she could smell him. He was waiting as well, but the difference was that he didn't know what he was waiting for.

Leyla took a deep breath, readying herself. It always felt like there was a stone at the bottom of her stomach right before, and there was nothing she could do to get rid of it.

The full moon was now visible in the sky, and she began to feel the effect of it coursing through her body, traveling the same path as her blood.

It started mildly- just her body feeling warmer than usual, like she had a fever. And then the pain began. Her body went from slightly warm to on fire in just a few seconds. Every single one of her limbs were in agony, but she did not scream. In order to do this, her body had to get bigger. That meant that her skeleton had to stretch itself. That's when she started screaming. Her spine was being pulled until it didn't fit her body anymore, so her skin stretched and she had to hunch over. She landed on the ground on her hands and knees, ad she thought she could feel her heart stop beating for a second, before it began to beet twice its normal pace. She knew that by now her eyes were yellow and judging by the pain in her mouth her teeth were extending. Looking down she saw long claws forming on both her hands and feet.

She was positive that she blacked out for at least twenty seconds, like always. All she was aware of was the excruciating pain that seemed never-ending. But it did pass eventually, and she stopped screaming.

When she opened her eyes the world was tinted yellow, but somehow she could see much clearer now. Also smells and sounds were magnified by ten. It was like she had gone half blind and deaf all her life and was finally cured. She felt strong and powerful, unstoppable even. She had the urge to make the whole world hear her voice. She stood up on her hind legs, bringing her to her full height of well over seven feet, opened her mouth and howled at the full moon. The wolf was awake and it wanted to run, so run she did.

She took off in a in a direction with no regards to where she would end up. All she wanted was to feel the soil beneath her feet and the wind in her hair. She also wanted blood, which she found in the form of a deer. It stood no match against her, not even in speed. She caught it without trouble and sank her teeth into its soft neck. She eat as much as she wanted to and drank as much as her tongue could catch of the gushing ruby drops. She ran again.

As she ran she howled with the wind, growled at nothing and frightened whatever poor creature that came in her way to death. She made a quick stop at a small lake to wash off the blood as well as she could with her now clawed hands.

She was by now used to the sight that she saw in the reflection of the water. The creature looking back at her was truly hideous. An ugly long snout above a mouth filled with razor sharp teeth. Her eyes were indeed yellow and larger than a human's. Every inch of her was covered in coarse black hair. There was nothing about her that would have given an outsider a clue to who she used to be. Having enough of looking at this repulsive being Leyla took off once again.

For hours she ran without a goal, as long as she didn't go near any human settlements. The moon had now began to set and the sky was very slowly getting brighter. An inner instinct led her back to the location she had used for the transformation. He was still there. His sent was still strong, like he hadn't moved a muscle since she left.

Her bones began to crack as they shrunk. Once again her heart stopped for a second. Her mouth was on fire because her teeth were withdrawing. She was rolling around on the ground in agony, but not a sound came from her lips. That meant that her throat was shrinking back to its normal size. She had stopped screaming not because it didn't hurt anymore, but because she couldn't make a sound, no matter how painful the process.

Eventually it stopped. She was lying on the ground, trying to get her breathing under control as she watched the moon disappear beyond the trees and the horizon. There was no pain anymore, only fear. Sandor had seen her, and now she feared how he would react. Would he be frightened, or angry perhaps?

She heard his approaching steps, more careful than they had been when he followed her into the woods. She sat up on her knees to see him better. Though he kept his hand on the hilt of his sword, his face was neutral, as if he didn't want to trigger another transformation.

An ironic thought came into her head and the corners of her mouth rose into a bitter smile.

"And people think _you're_ a monster."

**I just need to make it clear that I know maces historically were quite small and light weapons, mainly used by soldiers on horseback. I also know that they were not as effective as a sword. They were not so much weapons for killing as they were weapons for stunning and wounding your opponent. But it's called fanfiction for a reason and I'm not opposed to changing a few facts, which I most likely will later on as well. I really just want her to have a big spiked mace. Just use your imagination.**

**Also, if you're wondering about the size: if you've seen Lord of the Rings, think about Sauron and his mace when he fought with the elves, right before he died the first time. I'm not saying that Leyla is as big as Sauron, but the size of him compared to the size of his mace gives you an idea of the proportions I had in mind when I wrote it.**


	7. Chapter 7

A werewolf. The woman was a fucking werewolf.

There wasn't a lot that could make Sandor speechless- he was used to gore and blood, and cruelty was nothing new to him- but right at this moment he could not make a fucking sound. Like he had bitten off and swallowed his own tongue, and gotten it stuck in his throat.

This was not what he'd expected when he followed her, but he didn't really know what he _had_ been expecting. He'd managed to convince Joffrey that he wasn't in need of a bodyguard today and taken off after her through the streets. He became confused when she reached the forest. What business did she have in the woods at night with no weapons on her? At first Sandor thought that she was on her way to meat another man, but quickly dismissed the thought. She was an honest woman and they weren't sworn to each other in any way. If that was the case she would have told him so.

He was even more confused when she stopped in the middle of nowhere and took off all of her clothes. As far as he was concerned, she didn't know he was there, so it wasn't for his sake. When she stood there before him Sandor realized that he hadn't taken the time to truly look at her before. Now he saw that Leyla was covered in scars. Not like his, but battle scars, some bigger and more visible than others. A few of them looked like they had been very painful to receive and would probably have killed a lesser person. But not Leyla. Leyla was strong, he could see that now. Muscles that she had gained from the hard life in the wild rippled under her skin. She was a true warrior, and Sandor found it hard to look away, not just because she was naked but also because she was beautiful, no matter what she or anyone else said.

Her beauty wasn't conventional like the ladies of court, but more something that someone like him could appreciate, because he could stand next to her and not feel out of place. They were equal in many ways and for that he was glad. Had she been some pretty little thing like that sister of hers, Sandor would constantly have questioned himself and what he was doing with someone like her. With Leyla he felt comfortable, and that was more than any other woman (or person) had been able to give him before.

When she'd started to scream and convolve on the ground he was startled to say the least. Her limbs were jerking and her head was snapping from one side to the other. Looking back, Sandor could say that he'd went into shock from the horrifying sight. For it was truly gruesome. He would have interfered, but his feet became frozen to the ground when he saw the transformation begin. He heard what sounded like bones breaking and skin tearing. Within a minute she had grown about two feet and was now taller than his own brother.

What stood before him was a twisted version of a wolf. It was much uglier than a real one and about as big as a direwolf standing on its hind legs. The only thing that remained human about was the fact that it stood on two legs, its arms having extended and now reached to its knees, but that changed when it started running. It ran like it was a real wolf, but the steps it took were abnormal to make up for the length of its limbs.

Thankfully it ran away from him instead f towards him. He wasn't even sure if it had noticed him from the beginning, or if Leyla had. Were they even the same, or was it some other creature who borrowed her body once a month to make it its own?

Sandor stood there for a long time, not noticing time passing, pondering on what he'd just seen. The air was cold but he couldn't feel it. He could hear her howling and it sent a shill down his spine. Not many things frightened him, but what he had seen tonight would give him nightmares.

He was lost in thought and before he could notice time passing at all he saw it again. It had come back to the spot from which it began. Sandor took his sword hilt in a tight grip, ready to draw, thinking it had caught a whiff of him and was now coming to get him. But he was wrong.

It stood still for a short while, before it made similar noises and movement as it had earlier that night. It was obvious that it was in pain, but Sandor didn't want to get too close for the risk of angering it. This time the transformation was quicker. It didn't take long for the fur to disappear and the body parts to look human again, and before long Leyla was lying panting on the ground. She still twitched every now and then, but eventually that stopped as well.

With timid steps Sandor made his way towards her. One foot in front of the other; that's what he kept telling himself. Several times he wanted to stop and turn around, but he forced himself to keep going. In reality it was way too much to take in all at once. Not only did werewolves exist for real, not just in horror stories that parents told their children to scare them into obedience, but he had also fucked one, more than once.

He found that his hand was still resting on his sword, more as a reassurance than for protection. He trusted the Leyla wouldn't hurt him, but the creature inside her he wasn't so certain of.

She looked up and met his eyes. At first she actually looked afraid, but that faded fast and was replaced by a protected expression that didn't give anything away to how she really felt. To his great surprise she gave a sharp laugh.

"And people think _you're_ a monster." He honestly didn't know how to respond.

Sandor still hadn't moved. Leyla was almost getting worried at this point. She imagined that is what she looked like when Jon told her he was joining the Night's Watch, only this was a bit more unexpected. She was waiting for him to move or say something, but when he didn't she reached for her clothed which were waiting on a rock next to her. She put on shirt, trousers and boots but didn't bother with the rest. Her running tonight had left her sweating like a pig and she didn't fancy putting on any more layers.

She patted the ground beside her. "Come, sit down." Repeating the first night they were together, he did what she said like a well-trained dog. He barely blinked and he hadn't taken his eyes off her for a single second. His mouth was slightly open and she looked to make sure that he was still breathing. He leaned his back against the rock, but was still stiff as a wooden pole.

She thought for a while about what she was going to say. She thought he'd have questions, but he remained quiet.

"It's alright if you want nothing to do with me anymore. I'd understand." She would, but it would still hurt of he left. Leyla liked him and didn't want to see him leave.

"Why the fuck didn't you tell me I was fucking an animal, before I did it?" His voice was strained, like it took a lot of effort to get the words out.

Leyla huffed and raised her eyebrows. "You're hardly the person to judge someone for their appearance!"

"That's not what I said. Don't avoid the question. I said: why didn't you tell me?"

"Would you have believed me?" She sounded as tired as she felt. "Would you still have wanted to be with me, despite this?"

He didn't answer. His hands were fidgeting with the hilt of his sword. His eyes had left hers and were now darting from place to place, never staying still at one point, like he was having an inner panic attack. Instead of answering, he gave her a question of his own.

"How did this happen?"

This was one story she'd hoped to avoid. It wasn't exactly a happy memory, but she felt she had to do this, so to regain his trust. She didn't want to lose that to begin with, even though they hadn't known each other for long. They weren't even that great friends. They had just shared a few nights together, that's all. And yet, Leyla felt like he was one of the few people who would be judgemental of her, possibly because she felt the same way about him and his scars. To her, it was just a face. She had seen worse, most often in the mirror during a full moon. She wanted to tell him, if only to get it off her chest without worrying about him hating her for something she couldn't help. So she began to tell him her story.

"Eight years ago I was seventeen and I had travelled beyond the Wall with some friends. The people of my clan do that sometimes, just to get a sense of their roots and not to forget where they come from. There were six of us including me. We had only travelled a short distance from the Wall when it became dark, so we set up camp for the night. I was on watch when it attacked. It came out of nowhere, and it was big. I wonder now it could have been so big and noisy yet given us no warning at all of its attack. My companions were only half awake when it jumped on them and slaughtered them all. Sometimes I can still hear them scream in my head, still see their mangled corpses."

Tears had formed in her eyes, but she refused to let them fall. She would not let this man make a weakling out of her. _Wildling don't cry_, is what her mother always told her, and now she understood why. You can never show weakness, lest you want to go from predator to prey. Sandor's hand had moved closer towards hers, but didn't touch it. He must have had the same thoughts on weakness as she did.

"It must have thought I was dead, because it ignored me for the rest of the night while it ate two of my friends. It stayed around until morning and I saw it transform. You wouldn't believe the surprise I got! It turned into a small, old man. White hair, wrinkles on his face, not the least bit frightening. I knew who he was. His name is Craster, and he's well known beyond the Wall. He marries his own daughters, so they can give him more daughters for him to fuck."

Even someone like Sandor had to be bothered by something like that, and he was, judging by his facial expression. Leyla was ashamed that she had fallen prey for someone as pathetic as that leech of a man. She looked down so her hair fell in her face, in a way to hide her shame.

"He walked away without checking for survivors. I passed out from blood loss as soon as he was out of sight. When I came to, some of my people had found me and brought me back south of the Wall. They thought we'd been attacked by White Walkers, and I couldn't find it in me to correct them. Wildlings have enough troubles as it is and to ad werewolves to the mix…" She shook her head, looking defeated. "I was also frightened. I refused to sleep for days, thinking that he might know I survived and was coming for me. Remember that big scar I have? Right here," she pointed to the back of her thigh. When Sandor nodded she explained. "That's where he got me. That's where his claws infected me. Of course I didn't know that until the next full moon when I turned into a fucking wolf." She laughter bitterly, even though there was nothing to laugh at. But it was either that or to cry, and that was not an option.

The silence that lasted long after she spoke was deafening. You could cut the tension in the air with a knife, yet none of them wanted to be the first one to speak. Sandor was trying to take in everything she had said and Leyla was waiting for a reaction to come out of him. She would have settled for anything by now, even rage or disgust, as long as he said anything at all. The silence was driving her insane. Thankfully he was brave enough to speak first.

"If this Craster is so well known, why haven't you gone after him?"

Not what she expected to here, but oh well. It would be logical if she was to take out revenge on the one who gave her this…thing, but she had her reasons.

"At first it was fear; he was stronger than me in his wolf shape and for a while I was too cowardly to consider that I might be stronger than him as a human. Then I didn't have the time. My mother died very sudden and I had to take over from her and establish my place as the new leader. Then it was just laziness I suppose. It's strange to say, but now I've become sort of…used to it. It doesn't seem like such a curse anymore, but something I can live with. I've learned to control it over the years and now it really is a part of me."

Leyla felt at peace to have admitted this out loud for the first time ever. Deep down she'd known it for a while, but she'd never spoke about it. Mainly because there was no one to speak with.

"Does anyone else know?" he asked, still not looking at her.

"My mother knew before she died. She was with me during my first transformation, and later on she made me tell my father. My brother Jon knows too. He found out almost just like you did. He was just a little boy and he followed me into the woods. I must have scarred the living daylight out of him, he wouldn't talk to me for a week after that." She laughed at the memory. Leyla gave Sandor a look. "I knew you were following me, Sandor. Maybe I should have stopped you, but what's done is done and I can't change the past. I didn't know Jon was following me back then. I was young and unexperienced. If I had known I would have stopped him."

"Why didn't you stop me?" He sounded confused.

Leyla was confused too. Why hadn't she stopped him? She should have, but she didn't. It was foolish to let it go this far. If Leyla hadn't been able to control the beast Sandor's life might have been at risk. If he chose to tell people _her_ life might be at risk, depending at how those people would react. But she believed she hadn't stopped him because she didn't want to be alone anymore. She never really saw her father or brother, so they weren't that close. And now Jon was going off to the Wall, and even though she was going with Eddard to King's Landing, she wouldn't stay there forever. She knew that what she and Sandor had wouldn't last forever, be it friendship or their "romance", but she had never before met someone so equal to herself. It was a known trait of the Stark men to be gloomy. It might be nice to for once have someone know all of her and not only see the negativity. Sandor wasn't the most positive person in the world, but she thought that he might be able to see things the way she did. Of course, Leyla didn't tell him any of this.

"You're a grown man who can make his own decisions. If you wanted to run you could have, but you didn't, and I'm not questioning you about that."

He nodded understandingly, but would provide her with an answer as to why he didn't leave when he had the chance earlier. Maybe he was too shocked to move or maybe it was curiosity. Like she said, she wouldn't ask. If he wanted her to know, he would tell her in his own time.

"Do you have any other questions while we're at it?" she asked.

He shook his head, looking as defeated as she did. They were both exhausted, Leyla from her night of transformation and talking of thing she thought she'd never have to mention again, and Sandor from the shock of his discovery. He leaned his head back against the rock that supported his back and looked up at the sky. It was slowly brightening, but it would take a very long time for daylight to come, thanks to the fact that days were shorter up in the north and nights were longer.

The days before a transformation Leyla often had a shorter temper than usual. It built up until the moment of her change. In the other form it was easier to take it all out on whatever came in her way. On the morning afterwards it sipped right off her like water, leaving her feeling empty and tired. This is how she felt right now. There was something that she had to ask. She gripped his chin and turned his head, forcing him to look at her.

"Do you still want me? Or are you going to leave me for this?" Her tone was carefully neutral, like it wouldn't matter what his answer was. But she would be lying to herself if she said that she wouldn't care.

Sandor desperately wanted to turn his head, but the steady grip of her hand kept it in place. Without any warning he abruptly stood up to walk away. It was too much to think about in a too short amount of time. But before he could make to three steps Leyla dived for his legs. He fell down on the ground like a falling tree, landing with a thud. Leyla quickly crawled over his body and laid down on top of him, her face only an inch away from his. She pinned him down on the mossy forest floor, making sure he wouldn't move. He twisted around, trying to escape her weight, but lied still when he saw that it was pointless.

"You listen to me, Sandor Clegane," she growled through clenched teeth, "If you want to leave then there's nothing I can do to stop you. But I will not have you walk away without saying one word as to why! Be it this or something else, I deserve an explanation." He grimaced when she took a hold on his hair, nearly tearing it out with the roots. "And no matter what you chose to do, you will not tell anyone what you've seen. Is that understood?" She sounded calm, but underneath the surface she was fuming. It had been a bit much maybe, but there appeared to some anger still left in her, even though the full moon was now gone.

He would have nodded if he could move his head, but her grip on it remained. His voice was as aggressive as hers. "You daft woman, I'm not leaving you," he grumbled. "I'm used to monsters, I can handle one more."

Leyla was amazed at his response. She sat up in his lap and pulled him up with her. She wasn't the sentimental type, but it reminded her of their first night together.

"You think I'm such a fucking coward to run away just because you grow fur and fangs once a month?" Leyla had to laugh at his words. She wouldn't admit even to herself how relieved she was to hear this, but she truly was. The reason she had never talked about this with anyone was because she feared how they would react. But if only one person accepted her- and especially if that one person was Sandor- the whole process might get a little easier. It felt like a weight had been lifted off her shoulders.

"Are you going to let me up?" he asked.

"No," she said in a teasing tone, "At least not before I kiss you, you big boor."

He didn't get the chance to comment on the lightly spoken insult before their lips clashed. It was hard and with a lot of biting, just the way they liked it; affection with a mixture of violence.

They stayed like that for a long time, not seeing the sun coming up. The ground became warm beneath them, from the sun and from the fact that they hadn't moved for quite some time now. They came up for air when they needed it, but dived right back into each other's mouths once they had caught their breaths. To just kiss for such a long time was a new experience for both of them, but they enjoyed it greatly.

Leyla was the first one to pull away. "We need to start heading back. My family will start looking for me soon, and you have a prince to guard."

Sandor grumbled at the mention of that unpleasant child. Leyla didn't like it either, but knew they couldn't stay there all day long, no matter how much they wanted to.

When they stood up Leyla briefly took a hold of Sandor's hand. She gave it a squeeze and let go after a few seconds. She gave him a reassuring smile that said, _I know you're not comfortable with that, and that's alright_.

As she walked ahead of him through the woods, Sandor wondered if maybe he should have held on.

**1. I know that Rory McCann is passed forty, but based on some calculations from the book, Sandor is twenty seven when the series begins, so that's the age I'm going with for him.**

**2. My idea on making Craster into a werewolf is this: He's just a little old man and his girls could more than likely have fended for themselves, as is shown later on. So why were they so afraid of him? Why did the Others find him special enough to take his sons? (Bear in mind that I've only read the first book and, to be honest, didn't pay much attention to scenes with Jon because I found others more interesting. I apologize if I've got anything wrong, but I'm going to change a few things to make it fit my story)**

**3. I am I hard-core SanSan shipper, but I thought of Leyla as a character before they became my OTP, and I really wanted to get her down on paper, which I'm doing now. Though I desperately want Sandor and Sansa to have their Happily Ever After, I'm changing their relationship for the sake of the story. Here it will be more like a father-daughter relationship (later), and also, Sandor sees how much Leyla loves Sansa and it reminds him of the sister he lost when he was younger. So she will serve as a sort of replacement for her. He will still be protective, but for a different reason.**


	8. Chapter 8

Barely a week had passed before King Robert became bored, which was strange. All the way up to Winterfell he had nagged about it as if he was returning to his beloved childhood home, but now the north wasn't quite as appealing anymore. Sandor on the other hand had no problem with it. In fact, he quite liked it.

He liked the chilly air and that the sun didn't shine so bright during the day. They had more of a varied wildlife up here, so the food was better too. The people weren't so bad either. They were rowdy and hardy and he was comfortable enough in their company. Even the lords and ladies were tolerable. Here they were more down to earth and not as stuck up twats as they were in King's Landing. The northerners had cold blood in their veins and they were not afraid to tell the truth. In the south everything was covered in false courtesies and backstabbing. Here it was the opposite, or at least of what he had seen. Everyone spoke their minds, often no matter the consequences, and those around them expected no less. Winter had shaped them all, even if they born in the summer.

When he and Leyla had gotten back to the castle everything continued as normal. They went their separate ways and did their duties, whatever they may be, and reunited during the nights, in either of their chambers these times, instead of on the forest floor.

When he first gave thought to the fact that he'd had his cock inside that creature he saw in the woods, he didn't know how to react. It could have killed him. But then he remembered that it hadn't. Sandor had been very vulnerable that night in the forest, but still it hadn't done anything to him. It actually looked like it was avoiding him until she transformed back to herself. Leyla obviously had control over it and it only happened one night a month. If she wasn't bothered by it, why should he be? Like he'd told her: he wouldn't leave just because she grew fur every once in a while.

Of course, he hadn't realized there was anything _to_ leave until she brought it up. Sandor had never had a woman willing to stay by his side before. Not after he'd taken his fill and paid them. That someone would voluntarily do just that and also be concerned that he might not want them anymore was puzzling. He had no clue what she saw in the likes of him, but she must have liked whatever it was well enough, otherwise she'd be long gone by now. If she wanted to stay with him for some unfathomable reason, then he wasn't the kind to question it. She had questioned him though.

They had spent that night in her chamber. Her dogs were lying faithfully next to her bed, keeping an eye in the door and guarding their mistress from intruders. He hadn't been bothered by the presence of the animals. They still regarded him with suspicious eyes whenever he came too close to Leyla, but her trust in him put them at ease more and more for every day that went by. All was quiet and Sandor was almost asleep when she spoke. Leyla had asked about his scars.

"It's only fair that you tell me your secret," she claimed. "I let you know mine after all."

Had it been anyone else Sandor would have punched them in the face and broken their nose. He was confident that Leyla could no doubt take a punch like that and not bat an eyelash, but they'd been in a good mood, laughing and teasing each other all night, and he didn't want to ruin that. So he told her.

He told her of the treatment he received from his big brother and how it resulted in his hatred for knights. He told her of how his father had lied about the origin of his scars; that his bedding had caught on fire. He told her of the death of his mother and sister, and how both were caused by Gregor. It was never proved, but Sandor knew it was the truth. He didn't know why he told her all these things, but once he'd begun to speak it appeared he couldn't stop. Leyla never said a word during, but only listened to what he had to say. She drew patterns with her fingers on his chest while he spoke and he found the gesture soothing. Once in a while she'd nibble on his neck or shoulder, but never interrupt him.

When he was done she kissed him long and hard. When he fucked her that night she let him be in control. Leyla liked to be in command of the situation, but this time she let him pound her into the mattress without a single word of protest. He needed this and she must have felt that. She did what he told her. Eventually he got tired of her passiveness and told her to act normal again instead of lying there like a dead fish. Leyla laughed, glad to see that he still had his dark sense of humour that she liked so much, and became as vicious as usual again.

The next day he was down by the training yard, watching the prince swing a swords around at the risk of everyone's eyes, and act like he was the Warrior himself. Joffrey wasn't a bad fighter, but he wasn't good. Like with everything else he did he was much too overconfident and thought that just by uttering his title everyone would drop their swords and bow down to him. Sandor rolled his eyes as the blonde threw pathetic taunts at his opponents. One would think he was used to the ways of the prince by now, after all the years he'd spent guarding him, but you can never get used to someone like Joffrey, not completely.

Thankfully, the miserable day was saved when the king came waddling up to the training yard with Lord Stark and his bastard daughter on tow. Sandor and Leyla shared a look but nothing more. Whatever they had together was no secret if anybody asked, but nobody had as of yet, so they saw no reason to flaunt with it.

"The cold air of the north make my bones ache, Ned. It appears to have changed since the last time I was here. Less excitement and more dreariness."

Lord Stark chuckled at the king's words. "Or perhaps we both have too many duties to see to these days to notice the excitement. We're not as young as we once were, you know."

"That may be true," he grumbled, "but I'm still king and if I want to be entertained then I shall have entertainment, damn it!" Robert's face had gone red by the end of that sentence. He was used to getting his way in the south, but it had been so long since he'd been this far up in the country that he must have forgotten how one passes time in the north. What he counted as entertainment was drinking and whoring, but Eddard would never agree to that and the king wanted to be in the company of his old friend, so he was at a loss.

The people around him, including Stark and Leyla, seemed to find his minor fit amusing, as they were both trying to cover up their smiles- Stark by turning his head and looking the other way, and Leyla by letting her messy hair fall in her face. Sandor became momentarily distracted by the sight of it, and remembered how he just last night had used that hair to bend back her head and thus being able to gain access to her lovely neck. His thoughts were interrupted by another outburst from the king.

"I've got it! Let us arrange a small tournament! One of your northerners against one of my southerners. That way we can find out who has the greatest fighters once and for all!" He looked incredibly proud of his idea and was immediately on a better mood just by thinking of it. Stark was just about to protest when the king spoke in a firm tone. "You're not about to disobey your king, are you, Eddard? Not even the Hand had such privileges."

Lord Stark shook his head. "Of course not, Your Grace. Who is it that you wish to see fight?" Though he obeyed the king's wish, he looked hesitant about it.

Prince Joffrey had by now abandoned his lesson and stood beside his father. His voice sounded much smaller than Robert's, but no less demanding. "Have my sworn sword fight, father. The Hound will defeat anyone you send at him."

From anyone else it would have been a compliment, but Joffrey somehow made it sound like an insult. Sandor was almost impressed how he always managed to do that, even when he said genuinely kind things, which was close to never.

"Excellent idea, my boy. Clegane, get up there and get ready to fight!"

Protesting was not an option. Sandor stepped into the middle of the yard, drawing his sword and doing a few test swings in a way of warming up. He didn't care who he would fight with, as long as he got it over with quickly. He wasn't in a fighting mood today, as unusual as it was.

"Who among your brave fighters will he be facing, Ned?" the king asked.

Eddard looked out over the crowd of people who'd begun to gather to watch. Many of them were fine fighters, but none of them volunteered. Sandor knew that if it wasn't him they'd be facing, many men would have stepped up to defend the pride of the North. But they had seen him fight in the previous days and they knew they did not stand a chance against him. Lord Stark knew it too. He looked unwilling to call out anyone's name, just for the sake of having them getting injured in a game which purpose was to get the king to not throw a temper tantrum. None of the men would look him in the eyes as he too scanned the crowd.

"I will be your champion, father."

All eyes were turned to Leyla who stood calmly next to her father, resting one hand on her hip and in the other held a giant mace that was thrown over her shoulder. She'd mentioned something about a mace she received as a gift some days ago, but Sandor didn't think it's be that big. She looked unfazed at the idea of fighting him- Eddard was the one who looked frightened.

"Leyla, are you sure this is a good idea?"

"The king wants a fight, and I shall give him one," she responded. "No one else seems willing. Besides, I'm not afraid of him." The words were spoken to the lord, but her eyes remained on Sandor in a silent challenge.

The murmur from the crowd rose and even Sandor was surprised when she put down her mace on a table beside her before entering the ring that had been created around them. South had challenged North, and so she, as the northern representative, would choose their weapons.

"Put that sword down, Clegane. We fight like true wildlings today."

Fighting like a true wildling meant to fight without weapons. Sandor had not been expecting this and by the sound of it, neither had anyone else. Joffrey was beaming by the side line, excited about the fact that one of them would beat the other bloody into the ground by the end of this. Usually a duel like this would last until first blood, but that wouldn't work in a fight like this. They would simply had to fight until one of them surrendered.

Sandor removed his sword, scabbard and any other weapon he carried on his person and put it on the table next to her impressive mace. It was truly a frightening weapon, one he hoped he would never have to face in battle and was frankly relieved he didn't have to now.

They circled each other for a while, listening to the encouragement and taunting from their audience, but never taking their eyes off the other for a second. The people thought that the expressions on their faces were meant to threaten the other, but in truth they were smiling. It was the sort of grin that only they could decipher as a positive thing. This was a friendly fight, only to keep the king happy, and they would not hurt each other… much. For the sake of the show they started taunting.

"Do I see you trembling, Hound? Afraid to lose to a woman, are you?"

"Eat shit, you bastard. I'll have you on your knees begging for mercy before you can say wildling whore."

Leyla chuckled. She most likely would be on her knees before him later, but not in the sense that the audience believed and both she and Sandor knew it. They both look forward to it.

But enough foreplay. Both the king and people had become riled up- even lord Eddard appeared to want his daughter to defend her honour- and the actual fighting part began.

Like two young bulls fighting over a heifer in heat they charged and slammed into each other. One had aimed high and the other low, so Sandor lost his breath momentarily while Leyla's head snapped back. While Sandor regained his ability to breath, Leyla clutched her nose. When she removed her hand there were traces of blood on her fingers. Before Sandor could register it a clenched fist came flying towards him and hit him square in the jaw, making him stumble back and almost losing his balance.

"Come on, Leyla, you can take him!" he heard the Greyjoy boy shouting. He also thought he could hear the barking of her dogs, but to be honest, that punch had made him quite dizzy, so he couldn't really be sure.

Leyla had momentarily turned away from him to respond to the boy's encouragement, and so gave Sandor an open window. He wrapped his arms around her from behind and connected his hands tightly in the front. Leyla's arms were trapped and before she could fight back, Sandor squeezed his strong arms around her chest, making her gasp for breath. His grip was so tight that Leyla was lifted a few inches from the ground. She kicked his shin to make him let go, which he did.

When she turned around to face him she looked angry for true. Sandor couldn't be sure if she really was or if she was acting. If she was faking it, it was very convincing. Almost a little too convincing. She rolled her shoulders and cracked her neck to the side.

"Now you're beginning to annoy me," she said, much to the amusement of the crowd, as if the real fight hadn't even started yet. When she attacked again he found out that it hadn't.

Leyla threw herself at him, bringing them both to the ground. They landed with a thump on the trampled earth, but none of them cared that they got dirty. It was no worse than whenever they had fucked on the ground. At least now they were wearing clothes and armour. Sandor grunted when he landed on a rock that hit the middle of his spine with all of Leyla's weight on top of him.

Like the night in the forest, she held him down with her legs on his hips and her hands on Sandor's shoulders. She leaned in close to make sure that the people around wouldn't hear her words.

"I'm sorry about this, but it's what the king wants." She didn't sound sorry at all. In fact, she was grinning. Sandor frowned at her, but he didn't have time to respond before she smashed her forehead into his. She had a thick scull, that was one thing for sure. While she seemingly was hardly effected by the hit Sandor was seeing double and he would be getting a headache later worse than any morning after a piss drunk night.

The rest of the fight passed in a blur for him. Limbs were tangled, punches were thrown and knee kicks were being used in a most unfair way. One minute they were standing up and the next they were lying down on the ground again. The people around were either booing or cheering them on, but they both ignored it, as they were too focused on getting the other to give up and stay still. It was all Sandor could do not to get aroused by the whole ordeal.

They had lost track of time, but they must have been at it for quite some time, for eventually the king called out, "Enough! If I let you continue like this we'll be here all day and night." A collected sigh of disappointment went through the crowd. Sandor had been strangling her from behind while Leyla had painfully tight grip on his genitals. They reluctantly let go at the same time.

"Well, Ned, it would seem North and South are equal in strength. At least when it comes to our finest fighters." Robert laughed and slapped Lord Stark on the back. Stark huffed but did not respond. Joffrey looked saddened that they wouldn't continue until they had beaten each other to death.

_The little prick wouldn't enjoy it as much if he was the one who was fighting_, Sandor thought. Eddard on the other hand looked relieved. He approached his daughter.

"Are you alright, Leyla?" he asked. She was sitting next to him on the ground, rubbing her forehead where he had gotten in a hit.

"I'm fine, father. I've been injured plenty worse, though Clegane makes a worthy adversary. I wouldn't mind doing it again soon," she winked at him. Apparently this reminded her of their nights together as much as it for him. Lord Stark held out a hand to help her up, but she ignored it. "I think I'll stay here for a while. That last punch made me a bit dizzy."

The man nodded understandingly. "You are excused from the feast tonight, if you are still feeling unwell by then." He went to follow his king who had left as soon as the fight ended, and left them alone.

They were now sitting shoulder to shoulder on the dirt floor, leaning on each other. Leyla began to laugh.

"That… was the best fight I've had in a long time."

Sandor chuckled lowly. "I'm glad I could be to some assistance." He groaned when he put his hand on the back of his head and was met with a blunt, throbbing pain; the result of when she knocked him on his arse.

"Oh, you're in as much pain as I am," she cooed sympathetically. "Come with me. I know what we both need." Leyla took him by the hand and they pulled each other up. They stood still for a few seconds to regain their balance, before she led him towards the castle. This time neither of them let go of the other's hand.

Sandor soon found himself in a tub full of hot water. He wasn't too keen on bathing and had protested at first, but Leyla got him in the water by practically pushing him in after taking off all of his clothes. Afterwards, he had to admit it was pretty relaxing, and it soothed his aches. It got even better once Leyla joined him in the tub. She straddled his lap and he automatically took a hold of her hips. One hand she ran through the coarse hair on his chest, and with the other she placed a cloth filled with snow on his head. He flinched when it made contact with his soar head. Leyla did everything with a tinge of violence, even the art of healing, as he noticed now.

"Stop whining, you big baby. It's only a little snow. There's no need for you to squirm around like the tub is full of snakes." Her tone was firm, but somehow affectionate at the same time. After holding it there for a while she placed it on her own nose. Sandor laughed when he saw that she clearly wasn't enjoying the sensation of the cold snow any more than he had.

"Shut up," she murmured. She removed the cloth from her face. "How do I look?"

In truth, not so good. Her nose was swollen and slightly reddened. Her left eye was beginning to darken and her hair was a bigger mess than usual. Her body was covered in bruises that would look even worse in the morning. Sandor imagined he didn't look much better, going by how much pain he was in. However, he said none of those things.

"You look fine."

She let out a sound that was as close to a giggle as she would ever get to it. "You're just saying that so I'll spread my legs for you later."

"I don't have to. You'll spread your legs for me anyway." He gave her a cocky smile.

Leyla gasped and splashed water on him. "Don't presume things like that about me! You know, just for that you can sleep on your own tonight!" she exclaimed in a playful way.

"And what are you going to do without me?" he responded in the same tone.

Leyla grinned cheekily. "I can find my pleasure without your help. There are always willing bed mates to find if you know where to look. Perhaps I'll ask Russell. He is always quick to show his loyalty."

Sandor tensed up at the mention of the wildling man. Though Leyla had meant it as a joke, Sandor's mood turned sour at the though. He gripped the back of her neck and brought their faces close.

"Don't even fucking joke about that. I don't like sharing," he grumbled.

Leyla's smile faded and she became serious. She straightened her back and removed his hands from her neck and waist. "I wasn't aware that I was yours to share."

Instead of answering, Sandor averted his eyes and looked passed her out the window. He didn't want to look her in the eye.

"I don't belong to you, Sandor Clegane," she told him. "If you want something more than someone to warm your bed, you have to tell me. Until then, you have no right to decide who I fuck besides you."

_Say something, you fucking moron!_ his brain shouted at him, but not a word came out of his mouth. Tired of waiting, Leyla got out of the tub with a sigh, hastily dried herself of, put on her clothes and banged the door on her way out. Not once did she spare him a glance. He desperately wanted to go after him and say… what would he say? He didn't love her, but he wanted to be with her, and the thought of Leyla in the arms of another man made him see red. Sandor never spoke about his feeling and he wasn't about to start now. He would be damned before he let some woman make him go soft.

But Leyla wasn't just "some woman". She was Leyla. The woman who could beat him up, who didn't grovel for the little shit of a prince, who could move without making a sound, who was more equal to him than anyone he'd ever met. She was the one whose beautiful brown eyes turned yellow once a month when she became more of an animal than she usually was. He didn't want her to go, yet he could not move a muscle to get up after her and tell her so.

It was the dog like side of him that caused his possessive thoughts. Sandor wanted Leyla to be his and only his, yet he knew that neither one of them wanted to be tied down or make any vows of fidelity. There was a mess in his head and he couldn't make any sense of it, so he decided to start drinking, and he wouldn't stop until the thoughts either cleared up or disappeared. It was unlikely either of those two options would happen before he passed out. The bath didn't seem so warm anymore.

"Bloody imbecile of a man." Leyla muttered. Her still wet hair gave her a chill as she stomped outside, pulling the final straps of her armour in place. She was only half dressed when she left his room, but she didn't want to spend another minute in there with him.

Who did he think he fucking was? He had no right to tell her to do or don't do anything. She liked Sandor, but he had never indicated that he felt anything for her beyond lust, and this was not the way to do it. If he wanted to be with her he would firstly have to tell her, and secondly he had to learn that wildlings don't take kindly to be given orders.

People jumped out of her way when she walked past them. Not only was her face like a thundercloud, she also didn't exactly look her best after the fight that she had before. She hadn't been using her full strength and she doubted that Sandor hadn't either. If they both had done so, who knows who might have won.

Heading towards the gates of the castle with a tavern and strong drinks in mind, she heard the barking of her dogs. They sounded worried, like they were calling for help. She decided that drinking her problems away could wait. Making sure that her dogs were alright were always her first priority.

She followed the sound until she saw them. There were other people around as well, but they avoided them in fear. They couldn't tell the difference between an angry bark and a distressed one. Shadow and Ripper came running when they saw her, and she saw Butcher standing a few yards away, running around the foot of a tower. The canines let her around the building and she saw Butcher and Demon standing over something and sniffing it. Also one of the direwolf puppies was standing nearby, but she couldn't remember who it belonged to.

Both curiosity and dread began to settle in Leyla's stomach when she walked up to them.

"What have you got there, girls?" she asked them softly. When she came closer they backed away to make her some room. What she saw made her freeze in her spot.

Bran was lying unmoving on the ground. On his face it looked like he was sleeping but his upper body was twisted in a painfully looking way. The way his back was bent was unnatural. Why was he lying here? What was wrong with him? Why were his eyes closed? All had an obvious answer, but Leyla didn't want to think about it. However, she couldn't stop the thought from rushing through her mind. _He must have fallen off the tower. He loves to climb up there._

She rushed towards him and fell on her knees beside him. She didn't want to touch him, at the risk of making his injury worse.

"Bran? Bran can you hear me?" There was no answer, as she knew deep down that there wouldn't be, but she had to ask anyway. "Oh, please wake up. Please don't be dead." Her voice was shaking and she could feel tears beginning to form in her eyes. She looked up to see if anyone else had come to see what the dogs where barking about, but no one was there.

"Somebody help!" she shouted, desperate for someone, anyone, to come around the corner of the tower. "Help me!"

Around her the dogs kept on barking and the direwolf began to howl. It was almost a soft sound coming from the wolf, since it was still young, but it was so very sad at the same time. It felt like a knife cutting into her heart as she sat beside her beloved little brother's unmoving body, waiting for someone to come along. His face was pale and his skin was cold to the touch she noticed as she stroke his cheek.

Why wasn't anyone coming? Wasn't there anybody who could help him? The direwolf kept singing its song of despair.


	9. Chapter 9

He still hadn't woken up. Several days had passed and Bran was still unconscious. The maester had declared that he wasn't dead, but if he ever did wake up he would never walk again. Bran would never again run around in the court yard with his brothers and sisters, never chase his wolf pup, never make love to a girl and never walk down the steps of a sept or through the godswood to marry the woman he loved. His whole life was changed for the worse, and for what? A loose rock that he had gripped to tight, or a slippery piece of moss?

Lady Catelyn hadn't left his bedside since he was brought to his room. She'd barely slept or ate and she refused to leave him for one minute. Her other children were in despair. They grieved for their injured brother and sought comfort from each other since their mother was indisposed. Their father was in pieces. No matter what he said or did he could neither comfort his wife nor get her to leave that room. He was also saddened by the fact that he would soon have to leave for King's Landing. Though the king sympathized with him, there was no way he would be allowed to say no as position of Hand of the King.

Leyla chugged her fourth mug of ale and slammed the empty jug down on the table. "Bring me another one!" She was too angry to be courteous. What she was angry t she didn't know. Perhaps at Robert for taking Ned away from his family when they needed him the most, or Bran for not being to carful when climbing the high tower, or Sandor for being a fucking idiot, or herself for not being able to do anything about any of those things. She suspected it was a mixture of all of them at once. She snatched the new mug from the serving wench, who ran away before Leyla could take her anger out on her.

"Don't you think you've had enough?"

She looked up to find Sandor Clegane standing next to her. She hadn't even heard him enter the tavern, so lost was she in her thoughts. She snickered at his words.

"I don't think you're the best person to tell when someone's had enough to drink," she grumbled. She really wasn't that drunk. Living with a bunch of wildlings who liked alcohol taught you quickly how to drink your own weight in whatever beverage was put before you, be it anything from mead or dornish red wine.

He shrugged. "I guess you're right." He didn't argue further about it. It was a strange comment for him to make if he wouldn't continue to support it, but Leyla was too tired to question him about it. Without her permission he sat down across for her.

"I didn't say you could sit."

"You didn't have to. I just thought I'd keep you company."

"Why? I thought all I was good for was fucking when you felt like it, or have you changed your mind?"

He didn't answer. Leyla could almost hear the wheels turning in his head, trying to come up with something to say but he remained silent, just like the night she'd stormed out of his chamber. Eventually he spoke up. "I just thought you needed someone to talk to." He kept his eyes on some crumbles on the table, wriggling his hands. The words sounded reluctant, like he was struggling to get them out of his mouth. He almost sounded shy. Leyla would have thought it was cute if she wasn't still mad at him.

"That's nice, but if I did want to talk to someone it wouldn't be you. Not until you tell me if you want something more from me than the occasional fuck. If you do, then you are welcome at my table, but not now," she hissed. When he didn't move she nodded her head towards the door. "Get out now, before I throw you out myself."

He didn't move for a few seconds, just looked at her. "The Imp struck the prince today, three times. You would have laughed if you saw it." It sounded like a desperate attempt to get on friendly terms with her. To any other it would just have been a casual, random remark, but she could tell it was something more. He was close to begging her to let him stay.

He almost succeeded. Leyla smiled- for the first time in days- at the thought of the short man having reach up to get to Joffrey's face. The little shit deserved it. Sandor was right, she probably would have laughed out loud if she'd seen it. The smile that she gave him now was a tired and defeated one. She didn't want to fight right now, she was too sad for that. But since Sandor didn't wish to talk about what she asked of him, she had no reason to stay in his company. She sighted deeply.

"Please leave me alone. I don't want to see anyone right now." Her voice was quiet and sadder than he'd ever heard it.

He studied her for a quiet moment, then got up. "Don't forget that we ride for King's Landing today." He looked back at her in the doorway, but her eyes were fixed on the ale in her mug. Sandor's words about having had enough came back to her. Drinking wouldn't fix anything and she pushed it aside. It annoyed her that she did anything he said, but she wasn't in the mood for drinking anymore. She put her head on the table top and gave a frustrated groan. She had absolutely no wish to go with the others to King's Landing, but she had made her father a promise. She sensed that someone was sitting across from her. Thinking it was Sandor who'd come back for another try she lifted her head to yell at him, but stopped herself when she saw Jon Snow instead of the scarred man.

She wanted to be angry with him too for taking the black, but that would have been one too many people to be mad at at once. They sat there for a while, not speaking and just looking at each other, before Theon came to join them as well. He didn't speak either. He always liked to make a joke and break the silence, but now even he could feel that it wasn't the time for it.

"We're going soon." Jon's voice was sombre, as it always was.

"I know."

"You'll be there, right?"

She wanted to say no. She wanted to tell him to go jump off a cliff, but that wouldn't do any good, not when Jon had nothing to do with the things that had recently occurred. "I made a promise, Jon, and I intend to keep it. Besides, even if I was going to leave you, the way to the wildling settlement is the same way as father and the king is going anyway."

That answer satisfied him well enough and he let as well. Only she and Theon remained at the table. Theon had stolen her ale, gut she didn't care. It was better that someone drank it than to let it go to waste. He now sat next to her, drinking it in small gulps. They sat in a comfortable silence for a while, until Theon spoke up.

"I'm going to miss you." He sat with his legs on either side of the bench, facing her, but his eyes were directed downwards. He sounded so small and his voice was just short of a whisper.

Leyla threw one leg over the bench to copy his position. "I'm going to miss you too, sweetheart."

"Do you really have to go?"

"Yes, even if I don't want to. Keeping your word is important, and so is protecting your family."

He gave a tiny smile, but still didn't look at her. "I think lessons like that are one of the things I will miss the most."

He was referring to the life lessons Leyla gave him whenever they saw each other. They weren't ground breaking words of wisdom, just some common sense that she thought he needed to know, like what she just said and what she had told him about survival. Leyla liked teaching him these things. When he had come to Winterfell he was so frightened. He was just a little boy who had been all but kidnapped from his home, he had no friends and he was all alone. Leyla, who was a teenager at the time, sort of took him under her wing. She taught him reason that a child ought to learn from his mother or caretaker. Theon had become as much a brother to her as the other boys were, and perhaps he was the one that she was closest to. She adored the way he looked at her; like she was the wisest young girl in the seven kingdoms. So she continued to teach him, if only to get him to look at her like that again. Eventually she noticed that he actually needed the lessons, as he was growing up. He needed to be taught manners and wisdom, so Leyla provided him with whatever little knowledge she had on those things. Over the years she had won his respect and brotherly love.

"I'm not your mother, Theon, you'll have to learn things like these on your own eventually."

Theon got a sad look in his eyes. "Why can't you be?"

"What do you mean?"

He hesitated for a second before explaining. "I haven't seen my mother in years. I hardly remember her face. She could be dead for all I know, and Lady Stark has never been much of a parental figure for me. Not as much as you. Nothing would have to change between us, I would only call you by a different name."

"Theon, you're not seriously asking me-"

He interrupted her. "Remember that time when Bran fell down the stairs and scraped his knee? You could have taken care of it and comforted him, but you didn't. Instead you picked him up and carried him straight to Lady Cat. I asked you why that was and you said "Every little boy needs his mother"."

"You're not a little boy anymore, Theon," Leyla spoke as softly as she could in this delicate situation.

"Even grown men have mothers," he persisted. "Why can't I have one?" His eyes were damp and his bottom lip was shaking. He was close to letting the tears fall, but she knew that would never happen in a public place, especially one like this. This was all very uncharacteristic of him. Leyla had never seen him so emotional since he first came to Winterfell and she had no idea what brought it on. Then it hit her.

She was going away, and she was leaving him behind. He would be losing another person, another motherly figure, since he lost the first one almost a decade ago. They both knew what it was like to lose a mother, but at least Leyla wouldn't have to go through it again. She had no idea that Theon had come to see her in that way over the years. Suddenly she felt awful about herself. Ever since she'd known him, Theon had needed someone to support him, someone to pick him up and tell him that he was doing well and that everything would be alright. He'd acted like he didn't need it, but in the solitude of his room, when it was just the two of them, she had lost count of how many times she'd held him while he cried himself to sleep. He was so insecure and lonely, even if he refused to show it to anyone but her. Who would be there for him when she was gone? Her answer to his request came like a lightning bolt.

"There are too few years between us for me to be your mother for true." Now he looked like he would began to cry for sure, to Seven Hells with if anyone saw him, but she continued before he could. "But I would be honoured if you wished to call me Mother." It made sense really. The way their relationship had played out over time had been like a mother and her child, and thinking back on it Leyla realized that she had always treated him sort of like a son, only not seeing it until now.

Theon looked relieved. His shoulders relaxed but the tears in his eyes remain in place, only now they were of gratitude. Without a word he leaned forward and threw his arms around Leyla's neck. She was surprised at his sudden action, but put his arms around his back and leaned into the embrace. She put one of her hands in his hair and cradled his head to the nape of her neck, as one would a small child. It felt nice to be needed.

They stayed like that for some time until they realized that Leyla needed to depart. The first few times she tried to stand up Theon refused to let her go. Leyla chuckled and thought that in the presence of his mother- _It's really strange to call myself that_- he really became a little boy again. She had to force him to let go, and when she walked outside and towards where her horse stood he followed closely after her, never one step behind. She imagined that if she was wearing a skirt he surely would have gripped it. He stepped away a bit when she said goodbye to her sibling by blood.

Little Rickon was in tears, as he was about all his brothers and sisters going away. H would be left here with Theon and Robb who wouldn't have time for him, and Bran and Catelyn who neither of them left his bedroom. She clutched his little body tightly in her arms until she had no choice but to put him down, for he also wanted to say goodbye to the rest of his family. Robb had put on a brave face. He looked like a lord, despite his young age.

"I trust you will take good care of them." He tried to sound older than he was

"You know I always will, little brother." They embraced and patted each other's backs, like soldiers saying farewell after fighting a war. "You take care of the ones who are still here."

He nodded. Leyla couldn't resist to ruffle his curly hair one last time, like she always did when he was little- a habit that Jon had picked up on and used against Arya. "Stop it!" he laughed and swatted her hand away. "Are you coming, Theon?" he asked as he was about to walk away.

Theon looked like he had trouble answering, so Leyla spoke for him. "He'll be right there. Just give us a moment." Robb accepted her words and went to stand a few yards away, giving them some privacy.

"Will I ever see you again?" he asked weakly when they were alone.

The tone of his voice broke her heart. He and Rickon were so alike right now: both clinging to her, asking her without words to stay with them. But she couldn't do that, no matter how much she wanted to.

"Of course you will! Don't ever think that this is the last time you see me. After all, what kind of a mother abandons her child." It was a statement, not a question.

Theon's eyes led up when she said that. Once again he embraced her and held on tightly. He was right in a way; not much would change between them, except that he called her mother instead of her name.

"I will always be there for you, Theon, even if you can't see me. Not a day will go by when you're not in my thoughts."

She heard a sniff and noticed that his shoulders were shaking. Now he really was crying. She could feel her own tears forming in her eyes, but refused to let them fall.

"Saddle up!" she heard a voice in the distance shouting. It was time to leave.

She pried Theon's arms off her, gripped his shoulders and looked into his light blue eyes. "Remember what I've taught you. Respect those who earn it. Obey those who deserve it. Speak the truth, protect your family and most importantly: stay alive! You remember what I said of survival, don't you?"

"I remember," he mumbled.

She placed his cheek in her hand and he leaned in to it. "You're a good boy, sweet little Theon." She always called him that when he was little. It made his face red, but she knew that he secretly liked it.

Those at the front of the caravan had started to move, but Leyla's wildlings were faithfully waiting for her. She gave him one last pat on the shoulder before swinging herself up on her horse. Her mace and new shield were strapped on the saddle. She briefly looked up at the tower window, almost regretting that she hadn't said her farewell to Bran and Cat, but it couldn't be helped now. She had spent enough time in that room during the last few days, and it wasn't like Bran would be able to hear what she said. Her thoughts were broken when Theon spoke up one last time.

"Goodbye, mother." His voice was clear, trying to remain strong for her, not caring if anyone heard him.

It was one thing to imagine it, but when she actually heard him say it she didn't know whether to laugh or cry. It felt right, and she wished she didn't have to leave him now, but she had no choice.

"Goodbye, my son."

She rode out of Winterfell with her wildlings following, not looking back once. She later regretted that she hadn't spared one last look to that sweet little boy who she had come to love so much, who had become her son, if only in words.

**I wanted Leyla to interact with someone besides Sandor, and I have a soft spot for Theon. Let me know what you think.**

**I appreciate everyone who've stuck with the story this far. They've finally left Winterfell! That took longer than I expected!**

**I'm going to college next week, so updates might not come in very often, but I'll try to write whenever I get the chance.**

**My best wishes to all of you! You're the best 3**


	10. Chapter 10

**Wow, this is was a fast update! I guess I got into the writing zone and stayed there for 48 hours. I'm thinking about adding another OC for Sansa, since I'm not pairing her up with Sandor. Any thoughts? Yes or no?**

**Sabie0521: That's an interesting idea, about Leyla saving him. I hadn't planned for that, but maybe I'll let it happen. We'll see where the story goes.**

The next day it was once again time to say goodbye, this time to Jon.

Like the last time everything around them was grey, not just the sky. That included the moods of Lord Stark and his bastard children. Eddard always had a serious face, as was not uncommon for a northerner. Sometimes Leyla thought that he had forgotten how to smile, that his sister had taken his happiness with her to the grave. Though Leyla loved her father very much she was glad for the things she'd inherited from her mother's side, such as the ability to laugh.

While Benjen and a few soldiers rode ahead, Jon stayed to have a last word with his father and sister. Leyla gave them some privacy and waited while they spoke, man to man, father to son. She approached once Ned rode away.

"What did he say?" Leyla could help but to ask.

"He said he would tell me of my mother the next time we meet. Do you know who she is?"

Leyla hesitated to answer. "Yes, but it's not my place to tell you." She doubted many good things would come from Jon to know his true identity. It might even put him in danger.

"Why not? I deserve to know."

She knew this day would come, and so did Ned, but that didn't mean neither of them were prepared to talk about it. "That you do, Jon. One day you will know, but that day hasn't come yet." She left no place for an argument. She tried to make him forget about it. "I will miss you very much, little brother. The next time I see you you will be a man for true."

"Why do you do that?" There was no spite in his voice, only curiosity. "Why do you keep calling me and the others little brother or little sister all the time? I've heard you call anyone younger than you boy or girl, even when they act like adults. I bet you would call the prince that if he would ordered you lashed for it."

Leyla chuckled. "It's not anyone younger than me. I call you that because that's what you are. Even those who have to grow up fast sometimes need to be put back down on the ground and be reminded of what they really are. You are a child of seventeen, Jon, and the prince is even younger, and I will call you both what I see fit until you both grow out of it. Did you think joining the Night's Watch makes you a man?"

"No, I suppose not. Not when you put it like that," he mumbled. He ran his hand through his hair, like she so often did. Had she hurt her feelings by saying this? That was not her intention, she only meant to tell him the truth.

"I'll send you a raven from King's Landing. I'll tell you all the secret passageways through the Wall, so you can impress the lord commander by knowing them."

The put him in a better mood, and he gave her one of his rare smiles. By now both their companies were far away from them, and they realized that they would have to go their separate ways.

"Farewell, sister. I wish you all the best of luck." Jon held out his hand. They would have hugged, but that was a hard thing to do while on a horse.

Leyla gripped his arm right below the elbow. He copied her and they shook hands like wildlings do. "Farewell, little brother. Don't get killed." It was said in a light tone, but both knew that she meant it.

They rode fast in opposite direction to catch up with the riders.

_I'm getting soft_, Leyla thought, _I never consider other's feelings. Now I tried to spare Jon and I almost cried with Theon. What's wrong with me?_ She knew what was wrong. Like when a woman had her moon blood, her feelings became stronger when around a full moon, which would occur in a matter of days. Usually that only meant anger, but she had no desire to be angry at a time of goodbyes, so she became sad instead.

Leyla stumbled out of the woods, utterly exhausted. The sun was coming up and they would soon be on the move once again. Every day they travelled at first light and normally she was fine with that, but tonight she hadn't gotten a single ounce of sleep. It had been a full moon, and when she was a wolf there was no way for her to keep still. She felt so much more alive during her transformation than ever before, and there was nothing she could do but run for hours without a goal in sight. However, tonight had been more demanding than most nights.

They had been travelling for a few days when they arrived near the location where she had met up with Robert and his entourage. At first it brought out good memories, of her first night with Sandor, but then it brought out bad memories, for she remembered that she was supposed to be mad at him. He had made a few attempts to speak to her during their time on the road, but not about what she wanted to hear. She could imagine his frustration. He was trying to be civil, even friendly, to her, but she continued to ignore him. Leyla could understand that he was struggling to come to terms with his emotions, but she didn't care. She was suborn as an old mule and she would continue to act that way until he caved.

Did he want to be with her? All it took was a single word: yes or no.

But that night Leyla had other things on her mind. Like she had told Sandor the first time they were here: there were bear roaming this part of the forest, one in particular which was notorious for attacking humans. To cover up for her need to leave for the night, Leyla volunteered for guard duty. She had put out several wildlings around the camp to keep a lookout for the bear, and she was just as capable doing that as a wolf as she was a human.

But like always, she couldn't keep still. She had done something that would have been incredibly stupid, had this been any other night. With her enhanced sense of smell she had no problem following the bear's scent through the forest. When she came upon it, it was bigger than a usual bear, but she was also bigger than a usual hunter. It was still much bigger than her.

They came at each other, using teeth and claws. It was very heavy and used its weight as an advantage, but Leyla was faster and more agile. She managed to climb up a tree and jump down on its back, sinking her teeth deep into its neck. It took a while but eventually it stopped twitching and lay dead at her feet. She knew that if she'd been human she never would have stood a chance against such a beast. She knew that others knew it too. The carcass of the bear could provide much: both the skin and meat and even the bones, but no one, not even her wildlings who knew her potential, would believe that she had killed it all on her own. So she ran back to wear she had left her belongings, picked up the sword she sometimes carried but hardly ever used, and came back to the corpse just in time for her to once again transform back into human.

Her plan was to cut off the head of the beast and show it as evidence of its death. She would claim that she had stumbled upon it already dead. The removal of the head was so no one would see the bite marks that her teeth had left in the flesh of its neck.

The plan had worked fine. No one questioned her when she came walking with the bloody head under her arm, they were all too distracted at the thought of the things they could do to the deceased animal. Or at least her wildlings were. They were the first she told and they were the first at the scene, so they had the claim to the cadaver. She did receive some looks of either suspicion or knowing from not only Eddard, but Sandor as well. She was too tired to pay them any attention, so she ignored them. Leyla threw the severed head to the dogs, to eat whatever parts they wanted and to play with the rest. She almost fell asleep on her horse that day, but by a miracle she managed not to fall off, and slept soundly all through the next night. The wounds she received in the fight were easy enough to cover up and keep clean by herself.

They soon arrived at an inn where they would spend the night. Baratheon, Lannister and Stark men set up camp outside and all around it, as they could not all fit inside. Only those with a title would have the privilege of a room. Leyla had been offered one, but declined. She would much rather sleep in the forest with her own people.

Now she was walking around with her dogs running around her legs, keeping Sansa accompanied as she walked the grounds with her direwolf, Lady, whom she had on a leash. The wolf had grown big in a short time, and very beautiful. Like her owner she was a true lady, so the name fitted well. From the way he kept close to her, it was obvious that Shadow had become quite attached to the wolf. Leyla thought it humorous to imagine what they would look like soon. Though Shadow was a big dog, like his sisters, he would look like a pup next to Lady. Leyla wouldn't be surprised if they would soon find themselves owners of a litter of mixed breed puppies.

Sansa's eye caught the sight of some southern girls sitting by one of the carts, braiding each other's hair in the style that was so popular in the south. Leyla thought it looked ridiculous. They looked at the sisters like they were trashed. Sansa noticed.

"Are they laughing at me?"

Leyla knew that Sansa desperately wanted to fit in with the likes of them. "No, dear little bird, they're laughing at me. They've never seen a proper wildling before."

Sansa was about to answer when she stopped abruptly. Ser Ilyn Payne stood in her way. All the dogs started growling lowly, but would do nothing without their mistress's command. Leyla had seen him coming, but thought that he would move. He didn't. He just stood there and stared at them in an unnerving way.

"Pardon me, Ser." Sansa's voice trembled slightly, but she remembered her courtesies. When they turned to go the other way the Hound stood in their way. Sansa jumped out of fright, but Leyla's face didn't betray a single emotion. She'd both heard and smelled him coming, but she had no desire to cause a scene by fighting in the middle of the crowd.

He looked at Leyla for a few seconds before turning his gaze to her little sister. "Do I frighten you so much, girl?" he rasped, "Or is it him there making you share?" He nodded towards Ser Ilyn who still stood in place. "He frightens me too. Look at that face."

The corners of Leyla's mouth pulled slightly upwards. She knew Sandor was joking, in his own dark way. Leyla couldn't help but enjoy it, but would have done so much more if wasn't also at the cost of Sansa.

"I'm sorry if I offended you, Ser." The silent man left after Sansa apologized, for no reason Leyla thought. She had done nothing wrong. "Why won't he speak to me?"

"He hasn't been very talkative these last twenty years, since the Mad King had his tongue ripped out with a hot pincers." Sandor explained plainly.

Leyla put her hand on Sansa's shoulder. Usually she was also all for telling people the uncomfortable truth, but there was something about Sansa that made her want to protect her, or more like protect her innocence. It was stupid and she knew that. It was better for her to learn the horrors of the world now, before reality hit her like a tidal wave and she wasn't ready for it. Leyla was about to scold him when the prince stepped in. They seemed to be attracting people she didn't want to see today.

"Speaks damn well with a sword though, Ser Ilyn Payne, the King's Justice." Sansa's face lit up when she saw him, but fell at his next words. "The royal executioner." That was not what she wanted to hear, but Joffrey was smug about it. "What is it, sweet lady? Does that Hound frighten you? Away with you, Dog, you're scaring my lady."

Sandor bowed slightly, enough to be considered respectful. "And take your bitch with you," Joff added as an afterthought. Now came the anger that she usually had before the full moon. Leyla clenched her hands and did her best not to scold at him. She would have to wait until there weren't so many people around them.

"It's alright, Leyla," Sansa was fast to speak up. "I will be fine. You can go."

Sansa was no doubt ashamed of her sister the wildling, and would be glad to see her go. After all, Leyla was the reason those girls had been laughing at her, or that's what Leyla let her think. She was extremely reluctant to leave, but she liked it when Sansa smiled and was happy, when if it took that insolent little boy to do it.

"Come," Leyla said to her dogs, who followed her when she walked away after giving the prince one last growl of warning.

Sandor had been waiting for her. She didn't stop, knowing that he would follow on her heels like he had the last couple of days. If he kept that up he would soon be confused for one of her dogs.

"Did you have to do that?" He looked confused at her words. "You can joke all you want, but don't frighten her with it. The little bird is to naïve to understand humour from people like us."

"Why do you call her that?" he asked, now walking beside her instead of behind.

"What, little bird? Because she's very pretty and very fragile. Whenever I touch her I'm almost worried she'll brake in my hands." No more was said about it.

"Will you stop following me?" she snapped.

They stopped around the corner of the house where they were as alone as they could be in a crowd of people. Not many could see them from here. That made Sandor breathe a little easier, but his back and shoulders were still stiff with tension.

"What do you want?" she asked in a softer tone. "Are you going to give me an answer yet?"

"This is fucking difficult for me, woman!" he admitted with a snarl. "Seven Hells, I'll give you your bloody answer, but not now! Just give me a little more time." Her dogs were treading the ground around their legs. They had taken a liking to Sandor, despite the bad feelings between him and their mistress. He petted them when they came to sniff his hands. "Until then, couldn't you just be civil with me?" It was a strange request from a man like him, but since they'd left Wnterfell Sandor had been acting friendly enough around her, no doubt to win her over, while she displayed childish spite. But a person isn't who they were when you only last met then, they are who they've been during the whole time you've known them, and Sandor was as mean and vicious as she was.

"You're not the best person to tell me to be civil. You can't even tell a joke without scaring little girls. Besides, you and I are hardly the type of people to have any friends, if that's what you're asking." It was a depressing thought, but there weren't many people Leyla counted as a true friend. There was her family, yes, but they weren't extremely close, and the wildlings were her people, but Robert Baratheon wasn't friends with the people of King's Landing, they were his subjects. Thought Leyla held her people in a higher regards than he did, it was the same scenario. She thought that Sandor had it the same way, with no family worth speaking of and soldier who did what he said because he was above them.

He kept his eyes on the dogs that surrounded him. She hated when he didn't look her in the eyes when he spoke to her. "Might be nice to have one," he mumbled. It almost sounded like he was hoping she would hear him.

She couldn't help but to pity him. His life had been more difficult than hers, with his scars and all. Leyla had been brought up by good people who cared for her. He had been bullied by everyone until he was strong enough to push back, and even then he was treated as no better than a sword with legs, like he had no free will of his own, always doing what his masters told him to.

Leyla pinched the bridge of her nose. She might regret this, but to hells with it. "I'll be your friend if you want it so badly. Just because you ask so nicely." Sandor's head shot up. He got a glint in his eye that looked like… hope. It was strange to see something other than hatred and malice. The truth was she'd missed him. She'd missed his company and not only in bed, but she would never admit that to him. They stood there for a while, until she felt she had to break the silence. "So… what do friends do?" she asked lamely, feeling her cheeks gaining a bit of colour at her ignorance.

"How the hell show I know? I've never had one before." He was at as much a loss as she was. They must have been a pathetic sight really; two giants standing there surrounded by four big dogs, acting like children meeting for the first time, but having nothing in common. It was embarrassing really. But it made sense, since none of them had had any real friends when they were little. They had never been taught how to behave in situations like these. In the back of her head Leyla wished that she had listened a bit more careful when the Septa tried and failed to teach her how to be a lady, at least then she would be able to hold a normal conversation.

Sandor grunted, running out of patients as much as she was. "Come on, let go get a drink."

She was grateful for his suggestion. At least this she knew how to do. Soon they were seeded in the tavern, a pint of ale in their hands and the dogs lying at their feet, waiting for table scraps. The tension from the air around them disappeared as soon as they had gotten some drink in their bellies. They eased up in the other's presence, talking as they had before, but without the promise of a bed mate. It felt nice, they had to admit. Neither of them had experienced this much before. They spoke about things that soldiers usually do: weapons and horses, how the journey had been so far and what they looked forward to when they arrived. It was casual, but that was as far as they could stretch on the first try of friendship.

They had moved on to the subject of the dead bear that she had "found" in the forest when Jory Cassel came running in.

"Milady, your sister had gone missing!"

Leyla was on her feet in a heartbeat, everything around her forgotten. "Which one?"

"Lady Arya. We can't find her anywhere. Your father is sending out men to look for her now."

Without looking to see if Sandor followed her she rushed out of the tavern and into the daylight. Stark and Lannister men were gathering and getting ready to head out to start the search. From the corner of her eyes she saw the prince being led inside by his mother, but Sansa wasn't in his presence. She walked up to Eddard.

"What happened?" she asked concerned.

"I don't know. You tell me." His angry tone took her by surprise. "I gave you the task of guarding your sisters, but instead you share drinks with a Lannister man while they get lost in the forest. Sansa came crying to me, telling me that Arya had run away and the prince was injured. This wouldn't have happened if you had done what I told you to."

She could blame his temper on his fear of Arya being missing, but she knew he was right. She had ignored her duties, but she didn't think it would be this bad.

"I apologize, father. You can continue to yell at me later, but right now I would like to join the search. My dogs will find her faster than any man could."

Eddard saw the reason behind that and nodded towards the forest, indicating that she was free to go.

She looked down to find only three dogs at her feet. Searching with her eyes she saw Shadow had gone to sit next to Lady whose leash had been tied up. He really had taken quite the fancy to her. Leyla would have smiled had the situation not been so serious. She knelt down to get to her remaining dogs' level.

"Alright, girls, I need you to find Arya. She might be in danger. Find her quickly." They wise animal seemed to understand her perfectly, for they took off into the forest with a speed that matched an arrow. She ran after them and had a hard time keeping up, but they would bark every now and then to let her know where they were. Her heavy boots were weighting her down, but she was used to running far in them. They were one of the reasons her legs were so strong.

She didn't know how long they had been running between the trees. She wasn't familiar with this area and she would rely on her dogs to lead her back later. It was long since she'd seen anyone else, be it her father's men or the queen's. Leyla heard Ripper barking more than before. She ran quickly to where the sound came from. Her thoughts were brought back to when she had found Bran, and prayed that Arya wouldn't be in a similar condition.

Leyla breathed a sigh of relief when she saw her. Arya was sitting with her back pressed to a tree, trying to get as far away from the barking dog as possible. Normally Arya didn't fear much, but she was only a little girl, and right now she was surrounded by three big, vicious, braking dogs.

"Sit, girls. Ripper, by quiet," she commanded in a stern voice, to show them who the pack leader was. They immediately obeyed her. Leyla crept up to her sister and hunched down in front of her. "Arya, where have you been? Father is worried sick about you."

Arya hiccupped as she tried to keep her tears in. "She didn't mean to do it, she was only protecting me."

She didn't make any sense. "What are you talking about?" Leyla inquired.

"Nymeria," the girl exclaimed. "She bit Joffrey. He pointed his sword at me and she bit his arm. She wouldn't let him harm me. I sent her away." She finally broke down in tears and clung to Leyla who held her while she cried. She proceeded to tell Leyla of her she in turn had protected the butcher's boy who Joffrey had been hurting, how she had thrown Joffrey's sword in the river and how Sansa had just stood by and watched.

Leyla was proud of Arya and she told her so. "He deserved it, little wolf. He is a cruel boy and our sister will realize that someday. Do want to go look for Nymeria?"

"No! If Joffrey gets to her he'll have her killed! She has to stay away!" Leyla could hear that it pained her to say so, but also saw the wisdom in it.

"Alright, just calm down. Do you want to go back to the inn, back to father?"

She shook her head a tiny bit. "No, I want to be alone for a while."

Leyla understood her. When her mother had died she had refused to speak to anyone for a week. She knew what it was like to lose someone, whether it was a wolf or a mother didn't matter, the pain was still there. She felt Arya there under the tree and walked away with the dogs on her heels. Leyla knew that she would be found eventually. With their father searching every inch of the forest it wouldn't take long.

She found the road they had come down on earlier that day and stopped about two hundred yards away from the inn. She had no desire to be in the company of Lannister men or in the general area of prince Joffrey. She stayed there for a few hours, playing with her beloved pups. Darkness had fallen when she heard a horse coming down the road.

Sandor Clegane was leading Stranger, his warhorse, towards the inn. She wondered why he wasn't riding when she saw that someone was lying across the saddled. Coming closer she saw that is was a redheaded boy, no older than Sansa. He was strung up like a deer and obviously dead.

"Who is he?"

Sandor stopped in his path when she spoke. Before, it looked like he hoped she would ignore him, but now he didn't have a choice.

"The butcher's boy. Joffrey had me kill him."

Leyla didn't move a muscle, but Sandor could feel her anger.

"Don't look at me like that. Don't tell me you've never killed a child before."

"I'm not saying I haven't, if fact I admit that I have done so. But being a wildling is different than doing the bidding of a vengeful foolish little boy who is too spoiled for his own good."

"All I hear is excuses," Sandor barked. "You think being a wildling justifies that you've killed children?"

Leyla bit the inside her cheek. "No, of course not, but being a wildling teaches you certain things, like to get rid of the guilt normal people feel. Men, women, children, they're all the same: just sacks of meat waiting to be taken to the butcher."

"Then why are you looking at me like I'm the biggest shithole in the world?"

The dogs were becoming uneasy with the shouting that was coming from the man. Leyla's tone had remained neutral, but low.

"Because he was Arya's friend, and this is going to make her very sad. She's already lost one friend today. I don't like it when people make my sisters sad."

The starring match continued for about ten seconds, both trying to get the other to break. Break in what way they didn't now. Sandor wanted to show that there was nothing wrong with what he had done. At any other time Leyla would have agreed with him, but not now.

"Go on, Hound. Go show your master what a good dog you've been. I'm sure he'll be very pleased when you present a child's corpse at his feet."

Sandor left, but walked slower than before. There were unspoken words hanging in the air. Words none of them dared to utter. Gregor Clegane had lied the bodies of two children at the feet of his master. Leyla wanted to call him out on it, say that he wasn't so unlike his brother after all, but even she saw the unnecessary cruelty in comparing him to Gregor, and Sandor didn't want to think about it. But it was in the back of their mind for the rest of the night.

Eddard was in despair. Both his daughters were heartbroken, for very soon both of them will have lost their direwolves. The queen was cruel to do something like this, and it only increased his dislike for the Lannisters.

He walked with heavy steps towards where Lady was chained up. He halted his steps when he heard growling. At first he thought it was Lady, but soon he saw one of Leyla's dogs standing next to her. The male, Shadow, it was most likely. He stood beside her like loyal husband. When Ned took a step forward so did he.

"Easy, boy," he tried to sooth him. He was about to hold up his hands when one of them nudged the blade at his side. It must have been that which made the huge dog so uneasy and protective. He could sense why Ned was here, and he wouldn't allow it.

"What's taking so long?" came a soft voice from the doorway. Of course she would come to check up on him.

"She is well guarded. I will not be able to get to her tonight," he said, trying to hide his relief.

The queen took one glace at the dog and looked unimpressed. "That won't be a problem."

"What do you mean?" Ned asked, now a bit frightened, not of the woman, but of the lengths of cruelty she was willing to go.

Instead of answering she stepped aside to let a man in Lannister armour come out the door. Too late did Ned realize that he was carrying a crossbow in his hands.

Leyla was alerted when the girls started whining and whimpering. They never did that, what brought it on now? She was about to pull out the dagger she kept in her boot, in case there was an enemy lurking somewhere that was making them uneasy, when they ran direction of the inn. Knowing that there was no way to stop them, she got up and ran after to see what was going on. The sight she was met with would give her nightmares for long time ahead.

Four things she noticed. The first was queen Cersei giving her a haunting smile before going inside the inn and closing the door behind her. The second was her father sitting with Lady, her throat cut, her head in his lap and a knife in hand. He looked utterly destroyed. The third was her female dogs jumping on a man now lying on the ground, a crossbow next to him. He was screaming and trying to get away as they tore him apart piece by piece. The fourth was something she had refused to look at until now, but she knew it was there. In front of Lady lay the body of another canine. It was Shadow. Three arrows were piercing him. One was in the middle of his chest, like he had been shot mid-jump, the other two were in his side. _Good boy_, she heard a distant voice the she recognized as her own in her head, _at least you went down fighting_.


End file.
